Lilypad: Year One
by marauders4evr
Summary: On 31 July 1991, Harry Potter adopted a cat and Dudley Dursley saved it. Neither child expected that the cat would adopt and save them, in turn. Yet, that is exactly what Regulus Black does, transforming his appearance, his life, and their world. The family grows closer, stronger, and greater, by the day. For anyone who needs a home is welcome at The Lilypad.
1. Chapter 1

**Lilypad: Year One**

**Disclaimer: **I have books! Actual, legitimate, published, books. These books are mine, the characters in the books are mine, and the royalties I get from the books are mine. Unfortunately, the Harry Potter series does not fall into either of those categories. I will not be making a single galleon from this work. It is written and meant to be read for pure enjoyment.

**Author's Note: **Years ago, I had this idea for a fanfiction wherein Regulus took in abandoned children. I posted the first chapter of said fanfiction and then promptly abandoned it—the irony of which is not lost upon me. However, I recently moved to England to start my doctorate, and all I can think about is Harry's world. A world that Regulus, Dudley, and co. are about to make a lot better...

**Content Warning: **This fanfiction will contain swearing, child abuse, descriptions of gore/violence, eating disorders, manipulation, and death. Should any other squicky moments come up along the way, I will most assuredly let you know.

**Summary: **On 31 July 1991, Harry Potter adopted a cat and Dudley Dursley saved it. Neither child expected that the cat would adopt and save them, in turn. Yet, that is exactly what Regulus Black does, transforming his appearance, his life, and their world. The family grows closer, stronger, and greater, by the day. For anyone who needs a home is welcome at The Lilypad.

**The Actual Story: **

_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good..._

**CHAPTER ONE**

Harry Potter was happy.

It was a rare feeling and the boy wasn't sure what to do with it. It filled up every inch of his tiny body, so much so that it ached. He stood in the wand shop, a baggy plaid shirt practically reaching his knees, hiding the ribs that poked through his skin, hiding the bruises and cuts that danced across it.

Yet despite these injuries, he had never been happier. With his new wand in hand, still warm, he finally had a means to defend himself. No more punches, no more blows, no more harsh shrieks, no more nicknames. Freak. Whelp. Bastard orphan. No more.

He would never have to return to the Dursleys. He was free. He was a _wizard _and though his past chilled him, the warmth of freedom was comforting. He knew that this was his way out. And with that came a true sense of happiness.

That giddiness partially faded as he realized that he was on the receiving end of a rather uncomfortable conversation.

His knees threatened to buckle as he stared up at the strange wizard with the violet eyes, the wizard who muttered about the curious nature of his wand. A cold hand ran down his spine. He let out an involuntary shudder as the man's eyes pierced the top of his head.

"Sorry," he said in a small voice, "but what's curious?"

Those eyes somehow intensified. Harry tore his gaze away to stare at Hagrid, who was squashed into the corner, examining the tip of his umbrella.

When Harry turned back, he saw that Mr. Ollivander was smiling—a sinister smile that usually meant trouble for the young child.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave  
you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious, indeed, how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."

The eleven-year-old shrank until he was nothing more than a speck of dust on the carpet. With a shaky hand, he produced the seven galleons for the wand. Mr. Ollivander's gaze followed him all the way out.

"I 'ppose we have a few minutes," Hagrid said, oblivious to how shaken Harry was. "I'll tell yeh what, I'll get yeh a birthday present."

Harry's cheeks immediately burned. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had gotten him anything, let alone a birthday present. The child stared at the cobblestone road and mumbled, "You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to," said Hagrid with a wave of his enormous hand. "I'll get yeh an owl. How's that?"

"Erm—"

Harry didn't have much of a choice. The giant ushered him into a nearby shop called The Magical Menagerie. There were dozens of pets, each more absurd than the last, but the boy wasn't really allowed to look at them. Instead, he was practically dragged over to the wall of owls. The birds were beautiful, their breeds different, their feathers different, their temperaments different. A tawny own bit at his fingers when he reached towards it. A barn owl continued sleeping, even as he spoke to it softly. A screech owl, well, screeched.

"How 'bout this one?" Hagrid asked, gesturing towards a snowy owl.

It was quite beautiful with feathers as white as fluffy clouds and blue eyes that sparkled beneath the hanging lights.

"I suppose," Harry said. "I just don't know what I would use an owl for."

"Fer deliverin' packages," said Hagrid, sounding slightly annoyed. "Ev'ry good wizard has an owl."

"Oh."

Harry wasn't sure if he was a good wizard.

He wasn't sure if he was much of anything, really.

True, everyone in that strange alleyway seemed to regard him as some sort of hero, the person who had managed to bring down a great darkness. But he still thought they were wrong, and perhaps a bit barking. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a great wizard. He was Harry. Just Harry.

At that moment, 'Just Harry' felt something ram into the back of his knees.

He whirled around and nearly tripped over a giant orange lump of fur. He gained his footing, careful as to not tread on the cat's paws. The poor creature looked as though it had sustained enough injuries already. Its face rather reminded Harry of the cartoons that Dudley enjoyed watching, the ones where the cat chased the mouse. The mouse would dive away at the last moment, causing the cat to slam into the wall until its face was completely flat. Harry didn't like those cartoons much. He never knew which side to take. Of course, the mouse deserved to live, but the cat was always punished for sparing the mouse's life.

He reached down to pet the cat's ear. Unlike most cats, which would meow or purr, this cat didn't react. Not one sound. He stared up at Harry with large silver eyes, eyes that looked plainly concerned. Was it upset that Harry was petting him? The child jerked back his hand just in case. No, the cat was still giving him that strange look.

Harry suddenly spotted something else, partially buried in the cat's fur. It was a collar, black with silver swirls. The more Harry looked, the more he didn't like it. It looked as if spikes were coming out of the leather, pressing down into the cat's neck. Yes, Harry could see it, in those strange silver eyes. The cat was in pain.

Harry reached for the collar, only for someone to shout, "Don't touch that!"

Harry whirled around and saw that the shopkeeper had raced forward. Harry jumped back away from the cat and apologized on instinct.

The man melted with relief before saying, "No need to apologize, laddie. I know you want to help the poor animal but that's a cursed collar, that is. It's been on that cat for a decade. All my research points to it being Dark Magic. I have reason to believe that removing it will remove all of the magic in 'yeh."

Harry shivered, though he ended up hesitating. "Well, I only knew that I was magical for a day. I wouldn't miss it _that _much."

"Laddie, yeh can't just throw away your entire power for one animal." The shopkeeper looked amused. "Besides, what if it has other curses on it? What if it kills yeh?"

"But he's in pain!"

"It's a cat, you're a child!" Upon seeing how sad Harry looked, the shopkeeper sighed and said, "Look, the way I see it, if we keep yeh alive and in a good enough condition, yeh can help hundreds of other animals. Right?"

"I guess so."

"Okay then." Straightening up, the shopkeeper said, "Speaking of other animals, we've got dozens of them. Do you see any you like?"

"I was showin' him the owls," Hagrid spoke up.

"Well, I suppose, an owl will do—"

The cat nudged Harry again. Hard. This time, he went over, landing right on top of the animal. Harry didn't mind, sitting up to stroke his ears.

The shopkeeper frowned and muttered, "Curious."

Harry inwardly groaned. What was curious _now_? Was this cat somehow related to his supposed magical destiny?

"My boy, don't look so alarmed," said the man, his frown melting into something more friendly. "I'm just jealous, is all. See, that cat has been in and out of my shop for a good decade now, always going off with different owners. Nobody seems to want to keep him 'round. When that happens to yeh, it changes yeh. Makes yeh harder. Well, he's always seemed friendly enough, but I've never seen him _this _friendly. He seems to have taken a shine to yeh. Got any mice in yer pockets?"

Harry let out a small giggle before shaking his head. The cat meowed, pressing up against the boy's legs. Harry grinned and stood up with a declaration: "I like him."

Unfortunately, a gigantic noise shook the walls of the shop, causing Harry to stagger backwards until he crashed into the display of owls. He straightened up, brushing feathers from his hair, and was horrified and amused when he realized the source of the chaos:

Hagrid had sneezed.

"Never liked cats," he said. "They make me sneeze."

"I can see that," Harry said.

A second sneeze ricocheted through the shop. The owner frowned before producing a handkerchief, a miniscule relief for the sniffling giant.

Oddly enough, the cat wasn't spooked by the sounds. If anything, he seemed annoyed. When Harry had staggered backwards, the cat had bounded forward, pressing himself against his legs once more. Both Harry and the owner noticed this.

"That's more than just a shine," said the old man. "That cat wants to go with yeh. Would yeh be interested?"

"Erm, I don't know," Harry admitted. "What's his name?"

"Well, his first owner named him Crookshanks—"

Before he could say anything else, Hagrid stepped between them. "Ah, s'rry Harry, but I'm afraid the cat won' do. Got ter get yeh an owl."

"You've got te-to?" Harry repeated, momentarily slipping into the giant's dialect. "Why do you have to?"

To his absolute horror, the man who had rescued him from the Dursleys now looked slightly hurt and affronted.

"Well," he grunted, "it was 'possed to be your birthday present."

Harry's face was immediately on fire. He tried to put out the flames and any other damage he might have caused by hastily saying, "O-oh no, no, Hagrid, I'm grateful. I mean, I really am. Thank you so much. It's just, these owls are so expensive. I could never ask you to pay that much. Not after everything you've done for me already. Look. Right over here, this piece of paper is all about Crookshanks. He's a fraction of what an owl would cost. I'd be grateful for anything, really, I would, but I'd feel a lot better knowing that you didn't go through too much trouble for me. I'm not worth it."

The last part slipped out before he could stop it. Hagrid didn't seem to notice but the cat's head shot up.

Harry desperately tried to change the subject. He used the inclination of the cat's head to his advantage, petting him beneath the chin.

"Besides," he said, "He really _does _seem to like me. And it looks like he needs a good home. Please, Hagrid? If you're going to get anything, I really would prefer Crookshanks. I mean, I'd appreciate anything but—"

He trailed off, feeling as though he had mucked everything up.

Fortunately, after a brief moment of hesitation, Hagrid slowly said, "Well, all righ', Harry. If it's what yeh want." He let out another large sneeze before adding, "Just don' bring 'im by my house, eh?"

He gave the boy a large smile, causing his spirits to lift. They lifted even more when the giant pulled out a small hairy wallet. He glanced at the snowy owl again before asking, "Yeh sure yeh don' want-? I was told—well—if it's what yeh want—"

"Thank you, Hagrid," Harry practically squealed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The shop owner beamed and gathered the necessary items, placing them in Harry's trunk. He then produced a fine piece of parchment, an official adoption contract, which caused Harry to smile from ear to ear. He took a feathered pen from the man—marvelling at how strange it was—and filled in the appropriate gaps:

THE MAGICAL MENAGERIE | DIAGON ALLEY

31 JULY 1991

THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT _**CROOKSHANKS POTTER **_IS AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE _**POTTER **_FAMILY AND WILL BE LOVED BY _**HARRY JAMES POTTER**_.

SIGNED,

_**HARRY JAMES POTTER**_

_**LYSANDER SCAMANDER | OWNER**_

Harry laughed as the owner dipped Crookshanks' paws into a jar of ink. The cat didn't seem to mind, proudly placing his pawprints on the bottom of the parchment. Harry then had his own handprints added. The adoption was official.

"Thank you!" Harry squealed. "And thank you, Hagrid!"

The giant chuckled, his face as pink as his umbrella. He waved his hand and mumbled something incoherent. They entered the alleyway and realized that the sun was slipping beneath the horizon.

"'Reckon we have time for a bite to eat before yeh have to go back," Hagrid mused. "Yeh want a hamburger?"

Harry froze and Crookshanks crashed into the back of his legs.

"B-back?" asked the boy in a small voice. "What do you mean 'back'?"

And just like that, everything came crashing down. The boy's stomach twisted as that strange cold hand returned, tickling every single part of his skin, grabbing his chest and squeezing so tightly that he was sure he was going to burst.

"N-no," he finally said. "I can't go back there. I can't."

"Yeh have to," Hagrid said. "Term doesn't start til September First."

September 1st. That was a month away. A month. There was no way he could survive the Dursleys for another month. Not after the amount of trouble he'd caused. He could already feel the welts and bruises forming.

He tried to summon up enough courage to tell the giant what might, no, _would_, happen if he returned. But he didn't. He didn't say anything when they bought six hamburgers from a kiosk—one for him and five for Hagrid. He didn't say anything when they made their way to the Underground. He didn't say anything when Hagrid gave him an entire trolley of supplies that he had purchased, which the thin boy had to haul over the gap between the platform and train. He didn't say anything. He only watched, sadly, as the doors closed between him and the giant. The train sighed as it pulled away from the platform, as if it too was reluctant to go.

Harry rested his forehead against the cool glass. Not even the cat against his legs could cheer him up. He had been so close...so close to being free…

ϟ

The dusty carpet shook as Hagrid made his way across the headmaster's office. He felt rather like a schoolboy who was about to be admonished. The giant took some comfort in the trilling of Fawkes. He raised a finger and gently ran it across the back of the bird's head.

At that moment, another bird swooped in through the window. The white owl circled around the desk for a few seconds. Hagrid blinked and suddenly Dumbledore was there, brushing his feathery white hair out of his eyes. He adjusted his pointed hat and his half-moon glasses before turning his gaze to Hagrid.

"'m sorry, sir," Hagrid said, close to tears. "I know yeh wanted me to have 'im pick yeh but he wanted that cat so badly."

"Calm yourself, Hagrid," Dumbledore said with a lifted hand. "Everything is all right. You did brilliantly."

The giant's face grew pink again and his chest swelled with pride.

Truth be told, the headmaster was frustrated and disappointed. His plan had been perfect. He would pass as a common owl and have Harry take him in. Of course, he would only actually be in the boy's presence for a few minutes here or there, just to monitor how he was coming along. His extensive absences would be attributed to hunting or letter collecting.

Alas, the plan had failed. No matter. There was more than one way to check in on a child's progress. Truth be told, he probably should have thought of the more conventional methods first. He always had to overthink things.

Unlike the man in front of him who never seemed to put two thoughts together when they were needed the most.

Still, he was useful in some ways.

"The package, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, holding out his long fingers.

Hagrid pulled it from his pocket after a great deal of digging, happily handing it over. It was only when the giant left, accidentally tearing off his door handle, that Dumbledore stared at the object like a starved child stares at food.

Granted there had been a tiny hiccup in the plan—wasn't there always?—but everything was still going exactly as it should.

ϟ

An inky blanket stretched across Privet Drive. Harry trudged up the sidewalk, dragging his trunk behind him. The cat followed him without command.

"Now, listen," Harry said. "I don't know how else to say this but you need to be...normal. You came from The Magical Menagerie so there must be something about you that's not _Dursley-ish_. And whatever that is, I'm _begging _you to keep it hidden. They hate anything that's not normal. Including m—"

He broke off, slightly embarrassed.

The cat purred and Harry nodded. "You're right; it's going to be fine."

The cat stared at him incredulously, as if he had said nothing of the sort and didn't like words being put into his mouth.

Harry was about to enter the house when he heard a soft, "_No!_"

He whirled around, startled, though he wasn't nearly as spooked as the cat. Its back arched up and it hissed at the boy hiding behind Petunia's prized shrubs. The boy who was kneeling, because it was too painful to sit. He scrambled to his feet, still wincing in pain, but talking through it: "What are you doing here?'

"What are _you _doing here?" Harry repeated.

"Well, I'm not about to go in there," Dudley whispered, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "Dad really has gone mad. He thinks that you—that your lot—that you ended up cursing me for life. That I'm as good as an animal. He started breaking all of my presents. All thirty-eight presents; gone! 'Said that if I wasn't gonna be a normal child, anymore, that I wouldn't need them. Mum's trying to calm him down but I—I came out here." He paused before letting out a humorless laugh. "Kinda funny, huh? A pig rolling around in the mud."

And then, he began to truly cry.

Harry didn't know what to do. This was the boy who had invented Harry Hunting, who had made him clean both of his bedrooms before sending him back to his cupboard, who had thrown a fit when his breakfast wasn't cooked just right.

And here he was, muddy, pained, and crying.

In the end, Harry followed through with the first thought that popped into his head. He reached out and put his hands on Dudley's arm, shocking the boy into silence.

"It'll be okay," Harry said. "It's going to be okay, Big D. I have a magical wand, now, like the fairy tales. Maybe I can fix it? Or make it invisible? No, wait, then you'd still be in pain."

"I don't care about the pain," Dudley lied, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I just don't want Dad to hate me."

"He wouldn't hate you."

He left a sentence unsaid, but the boys heard it nonetheless: 'Not like he hates me.'

"Well, anyway, we won't give him the chance," Harry hastily said. "We'll get the tail off and then you—"

"It's not that simple."

Harry really didn't know what to do, much less what to say. For the first time in their lives, Dudley looked solemn, thoughtful, like he had gone to university and had come back with a deep knowledge on how horrible the world was. Harry licked his dry lips and asked, "What?"

"It's not that simple," Dudley said. "He's not just angry because of the tail. You should have seen him this morning. No, you shouldn't have. It was awful. You two took the boat. We were stuck on that rock for hours. That toothless guy—remember how creepy he was?—he saw the boat on the shore and realized that something was wrong. He rowed out and got us but if he hadn't, we might still be stuck there. And, then, I had to ride in the boat with this and it hurt and I started crying and Dad—Dad started talking about all of the things he would do to you. We've heard him talk before, but not like this. I tried to stop him. I told him it wasn't your fault."

"You what?" Harry breathed. "W-why would you tell him that?"

Dudley gave him a weird look. "Because it wasn't your fault? You didn't ask Hagrid to do this. I saw your face. You were bloody terrified. We all were. And then, he fell asleep. And, well, I guess I got to thinking, when we were hiding in the other room. About how you had never asked for any of it. Your parents dying. You being here. Hagrid doing what he did. You never wanted any of that. You didn't deserve any of that. I couldn't stop thinking. You know, I've never been that good in school. Mum always blamed the teachers, but I knew it was me. 'Was never as smart as you. But, in that shack, I had nothing better to do. No TV. No video games. I guess, it was a good of a time to think as ever. Anyway, by the time I got on that boat with the toothless man, well, I guess my thinking turned to feeling. I thought about how I felt. About you. About Mum and Dad. About how we've treated you. Harry, I—I mean—I'm sorry."

Harry saw that he meant it, even if the words were a bit muddled. He didn't blame Dudley. His cousin, himself, had admitted that he had never taken home the highest marks in their English modules. And what words _did _you use when you were trying to apologize to someone for a decade of abuse? Dudley clearly didn't know, and the fact that it frustrated him was enough. Harry could tell that he wanted to apologize. And not because Petunia had forced it out of him, on the very rare occasion that she did. This was all on Dudley, who hadn't quite formed the most elegant sentences, but still did his best. He was doing his best. And really, that was all anyone could ask of an eleven-year-old.

Because Dudley _was _eleven. They both were. They were just children, who had been put in a horrible situation, all because Harry had managed to survive when his parents were killed. Neither of them had asked for this life, and neither of them were old enough to truly escape it, but they were both getting old enough to understand it. To understand where things had gone wrong, and how things had gone wrong, and how things could get better.

They weren't sure how much they could do, but they could try. They could try to change things. They were children. They were young. They could still change. Everyone could change.

And, as they huddled together, beneath the misty rain, Harry realized that Dudley had changed. He still had a long way to go, they both did, but they were willing to make a go of it.

And Dudley was willing to make the first move.

A hand was thrust out in the space between them.

Harry hesitated before taking it.

It was a while before the two let go.

A crash caused them to turn back to the house. Harry strained and could hear Petunia frantically trying to calm Vernon, only for another crash to sound.

The boys stared at the curtain-covered window.

"Everything I said," Dudley mumbled, "I tried saying it to Dad. That's why he's so angry. Angrier than normal. It's not enough that I have a tail. It's that I stood up for you. But I couldn't—I couldn't just go back to hitting you or looking the other way when _they _hit you. Not after everything we learned about you. It wouldn't be right. None of it was right."

"Well, thanks," Harry said. "You're right, after everything that's happened—I dunno why Hagrid thought things would go back to normal."

"Me neither," Dudley said. "I'm glad I got to see you, again, and I'm glad I got to apologize. But I really wish you hadn't come back here."

Harry was about to say the same when he instead said, "Well, maybe it's a good thing I did. I'm glad I got to see you, again, too. And, now, I can try to fix your tail."

He reached into his trunk and pulled out the slim box. Dudley's eyes widened as Harry took off the lid, his wand rolling out into his hand.

"Wicked," Dudley whispered. "Seriously, Harry, that is so cool."

Harry smiled at the feeling of warmth that spread through his body, and not just from the magical object in hand. Dudley awkwardly turned around. Harry gasped and the cat hissed. Harry had nearly forgotten about his new pet. Dudley, it seemed, had just noticed it. It was hard not to notice Crookshanks when he came close to the curvy spear that poked through the back of Dudley's pajamas. The exposed skin around it was red and swollen, a disgusting ooze welling up in certain spots. The cat hissed again and Dudley asked, "W-what's it doing?"

"I think he's upset at how injured you are," Harry said.

Sure enough, the cat began to wrap itself around Dudley's legs, purring, as if it was his version of hugging and comforting the child.

Dudley tried his best to keep his balance as he said, "Well, no wonder he recognizes pain. Look, did you see his collar?"

"I know," Harry said with a grimace. "The shop owner told me that I could never take it off; that it would suck up all of my magic, if I tried."

"The shop owner?" Dudley turned, nearly stepping on the creature, giving it an apologetic look. "You mean, you bought him from a shop?"

Harry nodded and said, "This is Crookshanks."

Dudley gaped at the two of them. "He really is yours? I thought he was just a stray who followed you home. He looks like a stray."

"Don't be mean," Harry said.

"Sorry, but he does."

"Yeah, I suppose." Harry sighed. "I wouldn't have bought him if I had known that I was coming back here. I really thought I was going to be free."

He flushed as he remembered who he was talking to. In the end, Dudley eyed him and quietly said, "I really hoped you would be."

"Yeah." Harry sighed before saying, "Well, anyway—"

He gestured for Dudley to turn back around. The boy did so and Harry pointed his wand, feeling extremely foolish as he said, "Erm—Heal! Heal Tail! Tail Be Gone! Abracadabra!"

Nothing worked.

Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. It was childish, he knew, but he couldn't help it. He blinked them away as Dudley turned back around. "Hey, it's all right. It's okay, Harry. Maybe you just need some practise. You've got this magical destiny thing, right? You defeated a supervillain when you were just a child. You're bound to have some sort of superpower that can help me."

"Yeah, maybe." Harry sighed as he tried to think of a place to put his wand, ultimately slipping it into his belt loop. "I just wish I could have helped you _now_."

"Why?" Dudley asked. "I've been nothing but rotten to you."

Harry shrugged and muttered, "Well, it's nice, having you not be rotten."

His cousin surveyed him before saying, "Harry, this isn't your fault. I'm not gonna start hating you, just because you can't fix this. Nobody asked you to fix it. And, anyway, I think I've hated you enough for one lifetime."

Harry broke. He had spent ten years trying to not cry, knowing that crying would bring about an even worse punishment. But ten years was a long time to hold it in. He knew that it was okay to finally let it out. It wasn't childish. It wasn't harmful. It wasn't wrong. It was okay to cry. So, he did. Dudley put an arm around him and let him cry. He cried. And he cried. And he cried. And then, his stomach growled.

"Here," Dudley said, when Harry had used the front of his hand-me-down shirt to wipe the mess off his face. "It's not exactly the most nutritious dinner but—"

He bent down, behind the shrub, and picked up the box that had contained Hagrid's birthday cake. There was still a chunk left. Dudley flushed and mumbled, "I've been holding onto it. I—well—I wanted to give it to you, if you ever did come back. Happy Birthday, Harry. Sorry it's been such a rotten one."

"It wasn't all rotten," Harry mumbled. "Some of it was incredible. You should see Diagon Alley and—and Gringotts. They've got these workers, there, called goblins."

And so, the two stood in the rain, sharing the cake. Dudley hadn't wanted to share at first, pushing the box into Harry's hands, but Harry had insisted. It was delicious. Harry had eaten cake before, when other students had brought baked goods to school to celebrate the holidays. But nothing was quite as good as this. Oddly enough, he had a feeling that it wouldn't have tasted this good last night. Only now, standing next to Dudley, with the cat working its way around their legs, did Harry think that it was the best birthday cake he'd ever had. And, despite everything, it was the best birthday he'd ever had.

He continued to talk about Diagon Alley and Dudley was a polite audience, occasionally chiming in with comparisons to Smeltings Academy, which he had seen on a tour last week. Nothing truly important was discussed but it was nice, talking together, being together. Not even the rain could take away the warmth that had wrapped around Harry.

And then, on the other side of the wall, came a loud scream and a sickening crash.

The birthday cake tumbled to the ground, a bit of frosting landing on Crookshanks' head.

"Mummy!" Dudley shrieked, running into the house at full speed.

"Dudley, wait!" Harry cried. "Dudley!"

He didn't even hesitate in running after his cousin, the cat at his heels. He burst through the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive, even though, mere hours ago, he would have given anything to never cross the threshold again. This was different. Dudley wasn't safe and Harry wasn't going to let him go into danger alone.

And danger it was.

As Harry entered the living room, he was shocked to see that the Dursleys' glass coffee table had completely shattered. Lying on the shards was the limp body of Petunia.

Vernon towered over the mess, though he was quite distracted with the fact that Dudley was repeatedly punching him, screaming, "What did you do to her? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Vernon cried. "I would never hurt her! She probably fainted when she caught sight of that tail of yours!"

"Of course you would hurt her!" Dudley shrieked. His fists slamming into Vernon's chest. "You've hurt all of us! You're the real animal! You're the freak!"

Harry had just enough time to call out a warning before Vernon's hand struck Dudley's cheek, sending him flying halfway across the room. Dudley was so caught off guard that he didn't even feel the slap. He just sat up and stared at the man, shocked and confused. Harry didn't blame him. He had never been at the receiving end of Vernon's fury.

Harry, though, was used to the pain.

It was for this very reason that he put himself between Vernon and Dudley, taking his wand from his belt loop. He had just raised it when Vernon's fist struck the center of his face.

The eleven-year-old felt the pressure in his nose, then heard a snap, and finally felt the white hot pain. Something wet trickled down the front of his face. Even then, he didn't react, nor did he make any attempt to run. He merely stared up at his uncle.

Shock was one hell of a potion.

Vernon seized Harry just as Crookshanks charged reached him. The cat had never broken his stride, running as fast as he could. Dudley's injury, Harry's reaction, and Harry's subsequent injury had all happened within seconds. Having finally reached him, the cat sank his claws into Uncle Vernon's thigh. The beefy man let out a scream and threw Harry all the same. The boy crashed into the side of the staircase and fell to the floor. He was dazed and his ears were ringing but he knew that lying down wasn't an option, no matter how much he suddenly wanted to sleep. He watched in horror Vernon threw the cat with ease. It crashed into the wall next to Dudley, who let out a small cry.

"No!" Harry whispered, much more concerned with this animal that he had just met than his own wellbeing. "No! Crookshanks! Crookshanks!"

Vernon began to advance towards him, like a predator seeking his prey.

On the other side of the room, Dudley threw himself onto his hands and knees, crawling forward. It was only then that he felt the pain well up in his cheek, bringing him down to his stomach.

He opened his eyes in time to see Crookshanks crawling next to him. The cat was mewing in pain, though Dudley wasn't sure if it was from his recent injuries or from the collar.

In that moment, Dudley made the most important decision of his life.

He reached up and seized the collar with both hands.

"Here," he grunted. "This way, at least one of us can be free."

Summoning the strength that he had always known he had had, Dudley ripped the collar from the cat's neck. He had expected the cat to screech in pain, or perhaps run away, or even let out a meow of relief. Instead, the cat became swallowed by a white light.

Dudley screamed and covered his eyes. He felt something happening to his rear, a strange sensation, sort of like when his mother rubbed the cold gel onto his chest to keep him from coughing. Dudley didn't understand. He wasn't sure he _wanted _to understand. Life really was simpler behind his hands. But Harry was out there. And so, he lowered his hands, just in time for another one to touch his cheek, causing the pain to disappear.

A man was crouching in front of him, kneeling on the same piece of floor that had once been beneath Crookshanks. His silver eyes were the same as the cat's, though he was definitely a man. A man who couldn't have been younger than thirty. A man who was in tattered clothes. A man who had clearly not stood in some time but took a stand nonetheless.

"Dudley, stay down," he whispered, stepping in front of the child. "Keep your arms over your head and shield yourself."

The man stepped forward, a ball of green light appearing in each palm. He sent them both barreling into Vernon, knocking him away from a stunned Harry. Vernon wasn't down for long but this stranger already had the high ground. By the time Vernon came up, the man struck him once in the cheek and once in the nose.

Harry and Dudley could only look on in amazement.

The man was taking on Vernon in a fistfight—and he was winning! A strange pulse seemed to emit from him. The boys could feel it, like waves of static and energy. Something must have burst from the man's palms for Vernon suddenly went flying into the wall.

He ended up going right through it, falling partially into the kitchen. He let out a small grunt and lifted his head before it crashed back down.

"Not much of a dueller, are you?" asked the man with a twisted smile. He spun back around and crouched in front of Harry. "Harry, I am so sorry I wasn't able to help you sooner. I'll never forgive myself for letting this happen to you. Sirius is going to murder me but until he does, I'm going to do everything within my power to protect you."

Harry gaped at him. He had no idea what to say and the man seemed to understand. He picked up the trembling boy's wand and gently said, "I know a few spells that can heal your most recent injuries. Shall I perform them?"

"Please," Harry whispered.

The man flicked the wand that didn't belong to him and set to work healing as much as he could. As he did so, Harry took a good look at him.

He was tall, _unusually _tall. Like Harry, he had raven black hair. _Unlike _Harry, his skin was pale and he had silver eyer eyes that Harry suspected once held a sparkle. His hair was also different too, the boy realized. It was long and mostly straight, though there was a bit of a wave here or there. There was also a bit of frosting in it. The same frosting that had fallen onto Crookshanks. Strangest of all were the tiny holes that inched around his neck.

That settled it, then.

This man had been his cat.

Well, he supposed he had seen weirder things, today.

Including a remorseful Dudley, who now inched towards them. For a moment, Harry didn't know if he was going to attack the man. No. His cousin just wanted to be near him.

"There," the man said, as the last bit of pain washed away from Harry. "Now, Dudley, let me take care of you."

Harry watched as this man tended to his cousin. He finally found his voice, though it was a small one: "Who are you?"

The man gave him a sad smile. "No, I don't suppose you remember me, do you? You were only a baby when—when it happened that we could no longer be in each other's lives. My name is Regulus Black. I'm your goduncle. You used to call me G'uncle."

Harry stared at the man for what felt like a century and a half. He finally pulled himself together and said, "It's nice to meet you."

He held out his hand and Regulus chuckled. "It's nice to meet you too."

He shook the boy's hand and then shook Dudley's. Neither child knew what to say but Regulus seemed just as tongue-tied. Still, he gave them a smile that was—that was _kind_. He seemed genuinely kind, something that Harry couldn't remember ever seeing in an adult.

Vernon and Petunia certainly weren't kind.

Vernon and Petunia—

Harry looked past Regulus to Petunia's body. Dudley had remembered it as well, running forward and kneeling down in the shards.

"Dudley, wait!" Regulus cried. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

Dudley didn't care. He seized Petunia's arm and began to shake her. "Mummy? Mummy! Mummy, wake up! Dad won't hurt you anymore. Wake up!"

Harry gripped Regulus' arm. The man tried his best to give him a comforting glance. It didn't exactly work but Harry _did _feel safer with him there. He was an adult.

And he acted like one. Regulus stepped forward and waved the wand that Harry had purchased mere hours ago. The glass shards all disappeared, including the ones in Dudley's knees, though they still left several cuts. Another wave of Harry's wand caused the cuts to disappear. Dudley didn't mention his gratitude but Regulus expected that he had other priorities. He cradled his mother in his arms and Regulus whispered, "Enervate."

Dudley sighed with relief as Petunia's eyes flickered open. Unfortunately, upon seeing Regulus' face, the woman let out a gasp. "Y-you're supposed to be _dead_."

"And you," said Regulus coolly, "are supposed to be a formidable guardian. I suppose, somewhere down the line, we both ended up failing."

"Y-you don't understand," she whispered. "It's not like I could stop him. What was I supposed to do? What was I suppo—?"

"Mum?" Dudley asked nervously. "Mummy?"

All at once, the blonde woman fell unconscious. Regulus reached forward and put his hand between her head and the floor. Dudley began to scream and punch the man's shoulder.

"What did you do?" he wailed. "What did you do to her?"

"Shh, Dudley, I didn't do anything," Regulus said, performing a few diagnostic exams that he had learned on the battlefield. "Nor did your father. Well, he did a lot of things to her, but he's not the reason she fell. She's ill."

"She's not ill!" Dudley shrilly said. "I'd know if she was ill!"

Harry stepped forward and rested his hands on Dudley's arm. His cousin was so shocked that he immediately let it go limp. Regulus took the opportunity to pick up the fallen woman. He carried her over to the couch and set her down with more force than was really necessary.

Dudley winced before turning to Harry. "Do you think she's ill?"

"I—I don't know."

Harry thought back to the past year. His aunt had always been thin but her bones had been more prominent than normal. Vernon had blamed Harry on more than one occasion, claiming that he wasn't cooking enough food. Harry had privately assumed that Dudley was eating his aunt's portions as well, but he had never said anything. Now, he was glad that he hadn't, because he didn't think that was the case at all. His aunt _was_ clearly ill.

And Harry didn't know how to feel about it.

Dudley, on the other hand, was going mad with worry. Still, Regulus seemed calm enough. He wasn't using his magic to fix Petunia. Instead, he was repairing the house, taking away the dents and holes that had been caused by the recent fight. It took all of the man's strength to pull Vernon out into the hallway.

He pointed his wand at the man and Dudley let out a loud shriek. Harry flinched and looked away, only turning back when Regulus cried, "Boys?"

"Don't hurt him!" Dudley squealed. "Please, don't!"

Regulus sighed and said, "I won't, though I daresay he'd deserve it."

He flinched as he realized that it was the wrong thing to say. The cousins were holding onto each other, both terrified and miserable, the bespectacled one even more so.

The former Slytherin took a deep breath before saying what was best for the situation: "I will not harm him. I promise. I am merely going to modify his memory."

He certainly didn't want the man to retaliate for everything that had happened. He was going to do everything within his power to make sure that Harry never had to come back but he couldn't keep his eyes on the boy every second for the rest of his life, no matter how much he wanted to. Vernon Dursley was clearly an abusive monster, perhaps even more dangerous than the man Regulus had once vowed to serve. His arm prickled at the mere thought.

He raised the wand and set to work. A few spells ensured that Vernon Dursley would never remember this night. As far as he was concerned, Hagrid took Harry and the boy never returned. Which, Regulus thought, should have been the actual case.

He would make it the case.

But what about Dudley?

Regulus had never intended to help another child. His only goal had been to get Harry out of there as quickly as possible and he had clearly failed. But he couldn't leave Dudley in the horrid man's care. Truth be told, he had already begun making plans, the moment he had spotted Dudley in the shrubs. Certainly when the boy had taken the collar off.

They weren't plans that he had upon seeing Harry in the shop, but the plans that he made upon seeing Harry weren't the ones that he had when he had spent the morning near the scratching post. Those morning plans had consisted mostly of scratching his back. The point was that plans changed. He was a Slytherin. He could adapt.

But what of Petunia?

She was clearly ill, an illness that she had clearly been fighting on her own, without any professional treatment. There was something more, though, something beyond the already severe Muggle disease. There was a trace of energy around the woman. It was as if she had just repelled a very powerful curse that had been placed on her, and was now suffering from the fatigue that followed, mixed in with the fatigue from her illness.

He couldn't leave her in the same house as Vernon. Regulus had never cared for her, having seen her in King's Cross every summer and the few times when he and the Potters had tried to be civil. Still, his distaste in her tacky way of life certainly didn't mean that he wished her harm. Then again, the fact that she had knowingly stayed with an abusive ma—

No.

Regulus couldn't do that. He couldn't blame her. She might have had her part in Harry's pain and for that, he would never forgive her. Still, he knew exactly what it was like to find oneself trapped in a situation where an abusive, evil, masochist could harm or kill you if you dared to leave. Oddly enough, Sirius had been the one to get him out of that situation. Well, Sirius had been the one to get him out of the lake after he had so foolishly tried to get himself out of the situation alone.

Nobody should have to get themselves out of that situation alone.

And so, if no one else was there for them, Regulus would be.

He looked from the unconscious woman to the boy who had been a clear victim of abuse to a boy whose condition was unclear but had, at the very least, suffered from several nasty shocks. A trip to the hospital was definitely in order. But not St. Mungo's. He couldn't afford anyone in the wizarding world seeing him; not yet.

No. A Muggle hospital would have to do.

"Boys," Regulus said, channeling every part of Slytherin within him, "I know that you have both been through alot. I want to hear everything and I promise that I'm going to help you. Yes, yes, I'm also going to help her. I know that the last bits of your lives have been confusing and scary. Unfortunately, while I can try to take the fear away, things are going to be confusing for awhile. But I promise that the confusion will come out of me trying to do my best to help you. I want to help you. I need you to trust me. I was Harry's family once. I want to be again."

Harry and Dudley exchanged glances. It was the latter who finally asked, "How do we know we can trust you?"

"Excellent question."

Regulus brought up his hands and a golden light wrapped around him.

"I, Lord Regulus Arcturus Black, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do solemnly swear on my blood, my magic, and my wealth, that I will not intentionally harm you, Harry James Potter, and you—"

He looked at Dudley, who glanced at his father before saying, "Dudley, um, Evans."

"—Dudley Dursley, as he is legally named, though he wishes to call himself Dudley Evans, for now. You have the word of a wizard as well as a lord."

The golden light wrapped around the boys as well and though they both screamed at it, and grabbed at each other to boot, they were unharmed. A strange wind tousled their hair and clothes. At last, the strangeness disappeared, causing all of them to let out deep sighs of relief for reasons unknown. Regulus stared at the boys, waiting for their reactions.

The two exchanged glances.

"Lord?" Harry asked.

"Heir?" Dudley asked.

"All of which will be explained," Regulus promised. "In the meantime, we need to find a way to get us to the hospital. All of us. I daresay we could all use some medical attention."

Harry, seemingly forgetting that he had been abused for a decade, asked, "Do you think they could fix Dudley's tail?"

"They can clean up the infection," Regulus said, "but the tail is gone."

"W-what?" Dudley cried, feeling his rear.

"He's right!" Harry gasped. "The tail's gone!"

"That collar was designed to drain any magical properties of the person who would dare to take it off," Regulus said. "Dudley dared to take it off." He closed the distance between them, crouching down, putting a hand on either boy's shoulder. "Harry saved me from the shop. Dudley saved me from the curse. Now, it's time for me to save you."

ϟ

End of Chapter One! I know that this chapter was long, certainly longer than the first version of this story, but I couldn't be happier with it. I really wanted to flesh out the apology and relationship between Harry and Dudley. Before Regulus was able to save them, they were willing to save one another—something that will never change. I also really wanted to add the scene where Dudley frees Regulus, allowing Regulus to free them. There are a few more scenes I added in, that I won't draw attention to, but are crucial to the overall story!

For now, I'll say: 'Mischief Managed!'


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Surprised to see an update? Part of me wants to say, "Me too!" Another part of me feels that the small time-gap between the first and second chapter is completely justified for two reasons: 1.) If all goes well, I'll spend the next few years turning this into a full-blown seven-part series following the family through the HP timeline. Naturally, that required a bit of thinking/planning on my part to make sure that everything I wrote wouldn't contradict with a future plotpoint. 2.) I'm giving you all a novel for a chapter! There were certainly plenty of places that I could have ended it but I wanted to get the whole hospital arc out of the way in one go. There's a lot of story to cover. Enjoy!**

Chapter Two

From a young age, Harry had been taught the dangers of having a voice. It was best to shuffle on in the background of the Dursleys' lives, not saying anything that would disrupt them, certainly not saying anything that would upset them.

Questions about his parents, complaints that he was sore or ill, wonders about when he was going to eat—they were all met with Vernon's wrath and Petunia's pursed lips.

And so, he kept his own lips pressed together, staring at the polished floor. His back was beginning to hurt—he had been sitting in this plastic chair for awhile—but he didn't dare complain. Next to him, in an identical chair, wearing an identical look, sat his cousin.

Regulus sat across from them, in a slightly larger, though still uncomfortable, chair. He carefully surveyed both boys, and though he wanted nothing more than to sleep, he kept his senses on high alert. He might have never officially been an Auror or a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but he could still hear Alastor Moody's motto:

Constant vigilance.

He wasn't quite sure what they were doing in this small room, just off the emergency ward. He had a feeling that they had been ushered there to buy time.

To be fair, it wasn't every day that a wizard barged into the Great Ormond Street Hospital with two scared boys and an unconscious woman.

It had been a pain and a half getting them there. He had known that Apparation and Portkeys were out of the question, if only because of the size of the party. He had eventually used Harry's wand to Confund the next door neighbor, who had taken them all the way to London in her minivan. Dudley and Harry had sat in the back, both too deep in shock to say anything. Regulus had sat in the middle, carefully holding an unconscious Petunia. The housewife had sat in the driver's seat, cheerfully singing showtunes as she sped along.

As soon as Regulus had carried the unconscious woman into the hospital, with two scared boys at his side, he had cried, "Protectio trahit subjectionem, et subjectio protectionem."

The staff had set to work at once. The code had immediately told them all that the present company consisted of those who were magical. Many Muggle doctors, nurses, and orderlies were informed of the wizarding world very early on in their training. While St. Mungo's was the best option for any wixen, there were times when said hospital was not available. As such, the Muggle hospitals were often prepared to deal with the strange physiology and conditions that wixen faced.

Great Ormond Street Hospital was a children's hospital—Regulus had assessed the situation before easily determining that Harry and Dudley's needs had surpassed Petunia's—but the doctors had still whisked Petunia away to try their best to stabilize her for the evening. The other three had been ushered into the small room. They now sat, waiting, the silence only broken by Dudley finally asking, "Do you think Mummy will be okay?"

Regulus was quiet for so long that the boys wondered if he had heard. At last, he said, "I think that, for the first time since she became ill, she now has the opportunity to heal."

Dudley's response to this was a muttered: "I'm hungry."

Harry didn't even acknowledge his statement, let alone his own hunger.

Regulus did: "So am I."

Dudley hesitated before asking, "So, have you been eating cat food, all along?"

Harry looked up, also wondering the same question, but being too afraid to ask. Regulus threw them both a grin as he said, "Yeah."

"Was it—I mean—did you like it?" Dudley wondered.

"I _loved _it," Regulus said, chuckling at their disgusted faces. "Though I definitely missed human food. I tried to steal as much as possible, over the years, but I mostly relied on the tinned mush."

Dudley began to comically gag, getting Harry to join in. The former looked around, as if afraid that the walls would judge Regulus, while he asked, "Did you ever catch any rats?"

To their surprise, Regulus' face fell. "No, I was never quick enough to catch a rat."

Any other questions were interrupted by the opening door. The three warily watched as a woman slipped into the room. She was plump with curly brown hair and equally brown eyes. They sparkled with a certain mischievousness that reminded Regulus of an old quartet.

She quickly snapped the door shut before announcing, "I shouldn't be here."

Regulus stood, Harry's wand in his hand, a threat in his tone: "That's an awfully bold thing to say to someone who was a terrorist, a soldier, and a spy, who is now in charge of making sure two traumatized boys aren't harmed any further."

"I'm not going to harm them," said the woman. "I'm sorry, did you say _terrorist_?"

"Former-terrorist."

"And you're worried about _me _harming the boys?"

"Not really," Regulus said, twirling the wand across his fingers. "Only because I know that you'll never get the chance."

Dudley and Harry exchanged glances.

"That's a lovely threat," said the woman, looking more amused than anything. "I'm glad to see that you care about the boys' wellbeing. I do, as well. I'm not going to harm them. Well, not intentionally." She gave the boys a gentle smile. "With that said, please let me know if I ever do anything to unintentionally harm you. That would go against my entire purpose. My name is Emily Thompson. I'm a doctor—a pediatric counselor. I came to see if you lot were all right."

"I'd be better if you showed me your wand," Regulus said.

"I don't have a wand," Dr. Thompson said. "I'm a Muggle."

Regulus lowered his weapon, able to hold onto it, even if he couldn't hold back his surprise. "A Muggle?"

"Most of the doctors are Muggles," Dr. Thompson said. "You _did _come to a Muggle hospital. Just because we treat wixen, that doesn't mean we _are _wixen."

"Well, I know that," Regulus said, rather defensively. "It's just that you carry yourself like a Pureblood."

"I don't know what that means," Dr. Thompson said before adding, "I only have a few moments. The main doctor on sight, Dr. Orville, is prepping everyone with your case. His first priority is doing everything by-the-book. My first priority is helping children. Hence why I said that I'm not supposed to be here." She crouched down in front of the boys and added, "But I _am _here. I wanted to introduce myself without the others, just to tell you that. I'm here. If you ever need anything, I'm here to help you. All right?"

"I don't need help," Dudley whispered.

"You do so need help," Regulus remarked. "So does Harry."

The boy in question looked up, finally squeaking, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Dudley argued. "You gotta tell them what Dad did to you."

Harry began to shake. "I-I can't."

Regulus sighed and stepped forward, crouching down to say, "Harry, I know that you don't really know me, and you never really got a chance to know my brother. Anyone who knows the House of Black knows to look the other way when we're in public. Not only are you bound to be hexed if you stare too long, you're also bound to notice things about the children, things that are easier to not notice. Your godfather and I both went through years of abuse, years of pain, years of being unloved by anyone but each other. I know that you probably went through something similar. We're not that different, you and I."

"Yes, we are," Harry said before he could stop himself. "At least you had your brother to love you; nobody else was around to love me."

His words hung in the air, weighing down on the other three. Dudley whimpered and Regulus gave him a quick glance before turning his attention back to the small boy. "You're right _and _wrong, Harry. I wasn't around. I couldn't be. The day you were taken from the wizarding world was the day I became trapped by that collar. I tried everything within my power to find you but I couldn't. But even though I wasn't with you, I never stopped loving you. Even though your parents, your godfather, your other goduncle—even though they aren't with us anymore—they still love you. I know that they love you. You _are _loved, Harry."

"I love you," Dudley abruptly said. "I—I know that I—well—before—but—I—I do."

Regulus noticed with a touch of amusement that the child's improvised words made more of an impact than his carefully-orchestrated speech. Harry's eyes—so green that Regulus internally winced—sparkled as he whispered, "I love you, too, Dudley."

He hesitated as he glanced back at Regulus, his cheeks becoming darker. Fortunately, the man gave him a kind smile as he said, "You don't have to say, or feel, anything about me, Harry. As far as you're concerned, we only just met. And I know that you probably don't trust me."

"I know that you probably don't trust me, either," Dr. Thompson said, glancing from Harry to Regulus. "Neither of you do. That's all right. I hope that, in time, I can show you that I can be trusted. I'm a doctor. Doctors are meant to heal, to help, to—"

The door opened again.

This time, multiple doctors squashed into the tiny room, each one holding a clipboard and an exasperated expression. Regulus was confused by both until a spindly man with equally-tall hair stepped out of the crowd, too important to be among the rest. His black hair was as sleek as his smile. The smile briefly faded as he caught sight of Dr. Thompson, who quickly stepped in line with the other doctors.

"Did you not hear me?" asked the sleazy man, his voice so loud that the boys jumped. "I shouldn't be surprised. I told you to wait in the corridor with the others."

"Did you?" Dr. Thompson asked.

He sighed before turning back to the patients, who were slowly losing their patience. He didn't need to read from the clipboard. He had it memorized:

"'Hello, boys, I am so pleased to meet you. My name is Dr. Orville. These happy people are my associates. I understand that you have been through some hard times. It's my job to help you forget about your troubles and put on happy faces so that you can be normal children once more. We will start with—ah—mm."

"Seriously, don't take my distrust of you personally," Regulus said, speaking to Dr. Thompson, despite staring at the wand that had been placed between Dr. Orville's eyes. "I really don't trust any medical staff."

"You came to a hospital," Dr. Thompson said.

"Yeah, well, I know a friend who doesn't trust bumblebees, but he still chose a bumblebee's sting over a snake's bite."

Regulus turned his attention back to Dr. Orville, speaking with a slow drawl that the Slytherin hadn't used in many years: "I'm going to make this as clear as possible: these two children and I are as atypical of a set of patients as you can get. Reciting from your clipboard isn't going to help us and if you're not out to help us, I can only assume that you're out to harm us. And I can assure you that you do _not _want to harm them around me."

Dr. Orville sniffed and said, "My practices have been used for years. I know that every parent thinks their children are special but I fail to see what's so atypical about—"

And then he caught sight of Harry's scar. His gasp was so sudden that the boy jumped back, his chair hitting the wall. At the same time, Dudley leapt up from his own chair, standing between his cousin and the doctor. Not that Dr. Orville moved. He couldn't, what with the wand that was now jammed into his temple.

"Harry Potter," Dr. Orville whispered. "You're Harry Potter. Well, I've read all about you, of course. I always hoped that I would get to treat you. Imagine my next employers when they see my resume. Even the most conservative Squib haters will have to admire _that_."

Regulus had had enough.

"You want a high-profile name?" He began to walk forward, still driving the wand into the man's forehead, his hiss resembling Crookshanks. "Try Regulus Black on for size."

Dr. Orville went as white as the walls. Regulus finally lowered the wand. His name was enough of a weapon, as evident by the man stammering, "A-a-as in—?"

"As in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," Regulus said. "As far as I know, I'm the official Lord and Heir of the House. At least, I should be. So, what was that about you boosting your resume with this child's name? Are you in the market for finding another job? I _would_ be worried about that, as well, seeing as how your job here is currently so fragile."

Dr. Orville changed faster than a Metamorphmagus. To the surprise of the children and Dr. Thompson, he actually dipped into a clumsy bow, before saying, "I apologize, Lord Black."

"Yeah, I would," Regulus agreed. "Now, can we please get some medical assistance?"

It was given to them at once, with Dr. Orville barking out orders to his startled team. Dr. Thompson had enough time to whisper, "What did you just _do_?" to an eyebrow-wagging Regulus. She then fell in line with the rest. The boys were taken to a large room where they sat in side-by-side beds. Harry eyed his bed as if it was the most magical thing in the world, something that confused Regulus and saddened Dudley. Vitals were taken, IVs were placed, and antibiotic ointment was spread. Someone even rushed up from the kitchens with trays of slightly-edible food. Harry and Dudley both wolfed it down.

Only after his plate had been completely cleaned did Dudley ask, "Where's Mummy? I want to see her! Where is she?"

"She's sleeping right now, Dudley," Dr. Thompson said, pulling the empty tray away. "I have a feeling you're about to do the same."

"I'm not tired!" Dudley snapped. "I want to see her! I want—"

"Dudley."

That was Harry, who somehow managed to snap his cousin's mouth shut, with just a single word. Harry said a lot more with his eyes, eyes that were filled with sorrow and exhaustion. "Please? Can we wait to see Aunt Petunia in the morning? I'm tired."

Dudley hesitated before muttering, "Yeah, I expect you would be." That still didn't stop him from asking, "Shouldn't we talk about what happened to Harry?"

"I think we've got the gist for now," Regulus said.

To his surprise, Dudley looked away and muttered, "You'd be surprised."

"Do you feel like talking, Dudley?" Dr. Thompson wondered.

He shook his head and said, "No, I feel hungry."

"Well, tomorrow, you can have a nice breakfast," she said. "And then, we can talk."

"So, what, we're really sleeping here?" Dudley wasn't able to keep the fear out of his voice. "But we're not sick! And what's Dad going to think when he wakes up and we're not there? And how are we supposed to sleep with all of this noise? And—"

"Dudley, it's okay," Harry whispered.

Regulus frowned at just how disingenuous the child's voice was. Still, he forced a smile and repeated the words, "It's okay. I know that this is scary but there are adults all around you who want nothing more than to protect you. We won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

"Right," Harry said. "It will be okay."

Several nurses came in with hospital gowns, helping the boys out of their clothes. Harry was too tired to really notice the fact that his bruises and cuts were visible. He _did _notice a strange static that suddenly filled the room. All eyes turned to Regulus, who balled his fists and said, "Sorry. That happens whenever I get angry."

"Why are you angry?"

"Oh, I remembered that time I was a cat and someone pointed a light at the ground and all I wanted to do was get the light, but the darn thing kept _moving_."

The boys burst out laughing. It wasn't long before the laughter faded into snoring.

The doctors all crept away, Dr. Thompson briefly resting her hand on Regulus' arm. He stared at her eyes, shining in the dark, sparkling with the slightest bit of moisture. And then, she was gone, following the other doctors in line.

He sighed and trudged over to the rickety chair in the corner. His eyes drooped long before he expected them to do so. He closed them and thought about all of the families that he had lived with, all of the information that he had acquired before they had been forced to give him up, for one reason or another. All the while, he had looked for Harry. He had nearly had a heart-attack when, after ten years, the boy had shown up right in front of him. Regulus had immediately seen the signs of abuse. How many times had he and Sirius shown them? His heart had immediately broken. In all of the years of looking for Harry, he had never imagined that Harry would be _abused_.

Memories mixed with dreams. He could still hear the sounds of the hospital but he was no longer looking at the dark room.

_He was pushing his way out from the rubble. Bits of debris and wallpaper stuck to his black fur. A good majority of the house had fallen onto him and he knew that, had he been an actual cat, he would have surely died. As it was, he was a little squished, a little angry, but otherwise unharmed._

_He couldn't say the same for the woman lying next to him. Regulus wanted to mourn over Lily, over the sister he had met far too late in his life and had known far too little, but he didn't have time. Nor did he have the time to mourn James, leaping over his body even as he was weighed down by sadness. He had to keep going._

_He had always been able to track Sirius in his cat-form. Where there was Sirius, there was Harry. It had been such a simple idea. It had also been completely wrong. For as he raced down the cobblestone road, his paws bleeding after hours of travel, it became obvious that Sirius had not taken the child, as was expected. Instead, he had gone after a mob of Death Eaters. He had gone after Peter. Peter, who went to his knees, begging for mercy. Regulus had watched as the green light burst from his brother's wand, connecting with Peter's temple._

_He had charged forward._

_Bellatrix had seized him by the neck, a twisted smirk on her face, a collar in her hand. _

_The spikes didn't hurt as much as the thought that Harry had been taken, that he was gone, that he would grow up without his parents, without his godfather, without his goduncle..._

That said, the spikes _did_ hurt...

Regulus absentmindedly felt the holes that now pierced his neck. It was only then that he realized something: in all of the chaos, he hadn't even bothered to look at his reflection.

The chaos of it all.

Regulus took a moment to ensure that both boys were still snoring. He then stood up and promptly walked out of the room.

Harry waited until he was gone before he stopped pretending. He had wanted to calm Dudley, and even convince this strange man who had rescued them, but he wasn't feeling all right at all. On the contrary, he was terrified.

Whenever he had been locked in the cupboard for days on end, he would retreat beneath his blanket. Well, it wasn't a blanket, so much as it was an old tattered beach towel that the Dursleys hadn't missed. Still, he would pull it over his head and escape. He would think about how nice it might have been to go to that beach, or how it would feel to swim beneath an ocean, or what it must be like to fly on the moon. He would think of anything but the fact that he was a claustrophobic child trapped in a dusty cupboard.

And so, moments after Regulus left their hospital room, the claustrophobic child retreated beneath his blankets. This time, however, someone else joined him.

"It's okay, Harry," Dudley whispered, scooching beneath Harry's makeshift fort. "Everything's going to be all right."

"That's what I thought when Hagrid took me," Harry said. "Then, he brought me back to your parents."

Dudley's face fell and he muttered, "Yeah, I still don't know why he did that. But Regulus isn't going to take you back. He promised."

"Adults promise a lot of things," Harry said. "I've never met an adult who actually follows through with their promises. Not one. They try to help but they end up going back on their word and I end up going back to Privet Drive."

The other boy sighed before saying, "Well, maybe things will be different this time."

Harry hesitated before accepting the offer of hope. As reluctant as he was to think that Dudley was right, he had the same feeling in his own gut. Things were different. Regulus had saved them. He had brought them to the hospital. Besides, Regulus was an adult. Even if Harry couldn't trust all of them, he had to concede that adults were, well, adults.

Adults always knew what to do.

ϟϟϟ

"I have no idea what to do, I have no idea what to do, I have no idea what to do, I have no idea what I'm doing, I have no idea what I've done, I have no idea what to do, I'm only thirty, I spent the past decade as a cat, I was in hiding before that, I was a Death Eater for awhile, and then, it's just a blur of abuse and survival, I don't think I can legally call myself an adult, I think it might actually be illegal, I would be committing a crime, I could add it to the list of crimes I've committed throughout the years, alongside being an illegal Animagus and that time I joined a terrorist group, neither of which gave me the skills to be an adult or a guardian who's capable of doing adult things, I don't know what I'm going to do, I don't know what I'm doing! _Fuck!_"

Regulus slapped the wall before resting his forehead on the crook of his arm.

"Mister Black, are you okay?"

He turned with a neutral expression and tone: "Absolutely fine, why do you ask?"

Dr. Thompson stared at him before suddenly wincing. "Oh, sorry, was I supposed to call you 'Lord Black'?"

"No, don't worry about it," he said. "I don't even know if I can technically claim the title. I don't have my own wand anymore. Not since—"

He absentmindedly felt his neck before suddenly remembering something. Using Harry's wand, he conjured a small mirror.

The man that stared back at him winced. Fortunately, Regulus hadn't been a Transfiguration prodigy for nothing. The wand waved, its magic working alongside his wandless spells. Long hair was pulled into a ponytail. ("Oh, good, the hair's still black.") Eyebags blended into the skin. The rags he was wearing—having fortunately appeared when the collar had been broken—transformed into a white dress-shirt with black trousers and matching shoes. He still looked less regal than a member of the House of Black should, but he didn't really care.

He turned, realizing that Dr. Thompson was staring at him. In all fairness to her, he had interrupted a conversation just to transform his appearance. He let his arms rise and fall as he asked, "How do I look?"

"Much cleaner," she admitted. "What about the holes in your neck?"

He turned back to the mirror with a flinch. She was right. Small holes wrapped around the entirety of his neck, scars from the collar. He hesitated before saying, "I'll keep them. A little memento of that time I was a cat for one-third of my life."

"So, you were a terrorist, a spy, a soldier, and a cat?" Dr. Thompson dubiously asked.

"Don't forget an abuse victim," Regulus said. "It's been an interesting experience, living."

She gave him a wry smile and he returned it, touching his throbbing temple. "Blimey, and now, I have to be a guardian. I mean, it's not as strange as being a cat, but—"

"It'll get easier," Dr. Thompson said. "You obviously care about the boys. How long have you known them?"

"A few hours."

She gaped at him before forgetting the fact that they were in a hospital corridor in the middle of the night. "_What_?"

She flushed as her shriek echoed in all directions. Regulus had the common courtesy to hide his grin behind his hand. She leaned forward and hissed, "You only met them tonight?"

"Well, I knew Harry, when he was an infant," he said. "My brother was his father's best mate. He's Harry's godfather. Unfortunately, he's now in prison for murder. Long story. I was cursed right as he was captured. Harry went missing and I—I finally found him."

"But you have no legal right to look after him?" Dr. Thompson pressed. "The other one, Dudley, at least he has his mother—"

"I'm not sure he has that," Regulus muttered. "It's hard to put her at Vernon's level but abuse definitely took place in that house. I had to rescue both of them from Dudley's father. So, no, I don't have any legal connection to either of them, but I saved them, then, and I'm not leaving their sides until I know that they'll be okay."

She became lost in thought before finally saying, "I don't understand. I'm a Muggle but even I've heard stories about Harry Potter. I've borrowed books from magical doctors and nurses. I've seen the occasional newspaper article. He's famous, isn't he?"

Regulus nodded. "He killed a very powerful wizard when he was just an infant. At least, that's what they all say. In reality, he managed to survive, while the bloke died. Still, people do call him The Boy Who Lived. He's a hero."

"Then what was he doing in that household at all?" she asked. "Who would put him somewhere like that?"

Regulus scowled as an answer came to mind.

There was really only one man who could have arranged for Harry to go into such an abusive environment. The man who ignored a grief-stricken Remus' pleas to reveal Harry's location. The man who had tied Snape into a contract that was akin to servitude. The man who Sirius had mistrusted in the end. The man who even James had begun to doubt. The man who always seemed kind and gentle as he spoke to you, as if he cared about you in your entierty, and not just your place in the Greater Good.

ϟϟϟ

Albus Dumbledore was mad.

The silver instruments were screaming at the top of their lungs, practically leaping off of the shelves. He tried to silence them but they broke through the spells to screech and screech and screech some more, each one finding a different way to provide the same warning:

Harry Potter was no longer at Privet Drive.

Well if he wasn't there then where the bloody hell was he?

ϟϟϟ

Where the bloody hell was he?

Regulus gaped at the empty bed where the boy should have been. He had just returned from his excursion. After talking to Dr. Thompson, he had used the bathroom, before finding a vending machine, out of which he Accio-ed a bottle of water. He had then returned to the room. All in all, he couldn't have been gone for more than ten minutes. That had apparently been enough for Dudley to sneak off. Harry sat in his own bed, wide-eyed and tight-lipped.

Regulus groaned before racing back into the corridor.

"Dudley?" he called. "Dudley!"

He approached a custodian and asked, "Excuse me, have you seen a child? He has blond hair, blue eyes, he was wearing a red shirt with some sort of wrestling duo on it—?"

The woman laughed. "You mean the elephant who can't stop shoving food in his face? He broke into the cafeteria."

Regulus frowned. He continued down the corridor though he did glance back at the janitorial cart. In a true Slytherin fashion, he jerked his hand, causing the cart to tip, spraying the woman with dirty water. He smirked before heading towards the cafeteria. He wasn't the first one there. Several security guards were being held off by Dr. Thompson, despite the fact that she was a good head shorter than the stoutest one. Dr. Orville stood to the side, watching the scene unfold, without actually doing anything.

"The boy is having a medical crisis," Dr. Thompson was saying. "If you go in there, you'll only make it worse."

At the words 'medical crisis', Regulus abandoned all sense of 'Slytherin' and broke into a run. Dr. Thompson looked up and said, "Mister Black—"

"Lord Black," Dr. Orville corrected.

"Is Dudley in there?" Regulus cried. "Is he okay?"

She hesitated before saying, "Yes and no."

"W-what's wrong with him?"

Dr. Orville cleared his throat and said, "I'm so sorry, Lord Black, truly I am. I'm afraid that we cannot discuss patients' medical crises with non-family members."

"Well, I'm his aunt's husband's brother's brother," Regulus quickly said, trying to mentally follow the family tree. "Doesn't that count for something?"

Dr. Thompson gave him a sad smile and Regulus added, "What about the fact that I'm currently all he's got? Does _that _count for something?"

She sighed, realizing that she was going to lose this battle. "We'll have to do a few tests, of course, but I think he might have an eating disorder."

"_What_?"

Regulus ran into the cafeteria and froze. Dudley was sitting on the floor outside the kitchen, helping himself to an entire chocolate cake. His hands were like a well-oiled machine, pushing one piece after another into his mouth.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Regulus said, racing over and crouching down. "Dudley—"

The boy paused and cried, "What's wrong? Is Harry okay? Where is he?"

"Yeah, he's back in the room," the man said. "You ought to be there, as well. You certainly shouldn't be stealing food from a hospital. Petunia might not be perfect but I'd like to think she raised you better than that."

Dudley wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. "I-I came down to get something for Harry and I was just—I couldn't help myself. Harry's going to be okay, isn't he?"

"Candidly, Dudley, at the moment, I'm more worried about you."

"About me?" He looked incredulous. "Who cares about me?"

He went to take another bite but Regulus pushed his hands down. "That's enough. You're going to make yourself si—"

At that moment, the eleven-year-old vomited. Regulus' crisp, white, shirt had the pleasure of receiving most of the mess. When Dudley realized what had happened, he burst into tears.

"Hey, whoa, it's okay," Regulus said. "Wizard, remember?"

He focused and brought his hand up and down. Within seconds, the mess had vanished, though the aftermath was still heavily present. Ignoring the chocolate stains—though secretly deciding that white really wasn't his color—Regulus pulled the weeping boy into a hug. Dudley was shocked into silence, though he did eventually lean against the man.

"I-I'm sorry," he said at last. "I knew I was going to be sick but I really couldn't stop. It was like I was being possessed. Is that weird?"

"You're talking to a man who can turn into a cat and wave a magic stick," Regulus said, getting a chuckle out of the boy. "I've seen weirder. However, I _am _concerned."

Dudley let out a yawn and the man added, "But we can talk about it later. Come on. Let's get you back to bed."

The two stood up and, with Regulus' arm still protectively wrapped around the boy's shoulders, walked right past the guards and doctors. Regulus didn't let go of the boy until they were back in the room. Dudley ducked into the bathroom to change into a hospital gown, if only because his clothes were covered with chocolate. He came back out and took a long look at Harry, who barely took up a third of his hospital bed. To the relief of both the adult and the eleven-year-old, Harry had finally fallen asleep.

"He's going to be okay," Regulus said, leading Dudley over to a spare bed. "And so are you. I promise. I'm not going to let anything happen to either one of you."

"Why?" Dudley asked, sinking down into the mattress. "I get looking after him. It's about time someone did. But why are you looking after me?"

"We're family, Dudley," Regulus said with a smile.

"We are?"

"You're my brother's brother's wife's nephew," he teased. "If that doesn't make us family then what does?"

He rested his hand on the boy's forehead, which gave him ample opportunity to perform a subtle spell. Dudley's eyes snapped shut. It wasn't long before two sets of snores filled the room. It was only then that Regulus left. He headed down the corridor just as Dr. Thompson headed up it. Regulus caught her waist and pulled her into a secluded area. Her cheeks grew pink and it was a moment before she pulled away.

Regulus gestured back towards the wing before saying, "Erm, _what_?"

She sighed. "It's called Binge Eating Disorder. It occurs when children, anyone, really, go through a traumatic experience. They eat uncontrollably as a subconscious attempt to cope."

"Will he be all right?"

"He will," she said, "but it's going to take some time. I'd like to see him for counseling."

The sound of footsteps was their only warning before Dr. Orville appeared, his lips pursed, despite his insistence on licking Regulus' boots.

"Lord Black," he said, "I couldn't help overhear—oh, sorry, Emily, I meant no offense—that you need someone to help counsel Harry Potter's cousin."

"I do," Regulus said. "When's your next availability?"

He drew himself up and proudly said, "Well, I can see him in two w—"

"Oh, sorry, I was talking to Dr. Thompson."

Dr. Orville looked horrified, as if Regulus had suggested throwing Dudley into a lion den and letting the creatures sort him out. Dr. Thompson, on the other hand, looked touched. "I can talk to him tomorrow morning."

"Surely there must be something I can do for you?" Dr. Orville asked. "I'm all ears. Oh, sorry, again, Emily."

"Yeah, there is something you can do," Regulus said, annoyed. "You can tell me why you're treating your colleague like she's a flobberworm."

Dr. Thompson's cheeks darkened as she asked, "What's a flobberworm?"

"A creature that doesn't come close to your beauty," Dr. Orville assured her.

Regulus grinned and said, "Yeah, it looks more like you, doesn't it?"

Dr. Thompson was unable to hold back her snort. She hesitated only for a moment before pushing back her curly hair, revealing strange devices on either ear.

"Erm—okay?" Regulus said. "He's treating you like shite because you have a weird taste in jewelry?"

"These are hearing aids."

"Oh." He blinked. "What do they do?"

Her mouth curved as she said, "They aid hearing."

"I—" He touched his forehead. "Yeah, yeah, that makes sense."

"A powerful Lord, huh?"

"It's been a long night, okay?"

She giggled and he added, "I still don't get why Dr. Orville is acting that way."

"I would be more than happy to answer any questions you have," Dr. Orville stiffly said. "Seeing as how I'm still standing right here."

"Are you?" Regulus coyly asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

Giggles followed Dr. Orville all the way down the corridor. He slipped on the same water that had splashed the janitor, much to the duo's delight.

Dr. Thompson quickly controlled herself and said, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Regulus said. "I've had enough abusive bastards for one lifetime."

ϟϟϟ

Vernon Dursley was not happy.

He had just awoken on the couch, his head pounding, hung-over from a drink he didn't remember having.

"Petunia!" he roared before his eyes were even open. "Pet!"

She would normally come running with an aspirin and a hot towel to soothe the pain. Today, however, she didn't even react to his shouts.

"Dudders, help your old man!" Vernon commanded, running a beefy hand across his face. "Dudders! Dudley!"

No answer.

"Freak!" Vernon was furious now. "Get the hell out here!"

Even he refused to help. Vernon finally forced his eyes open. The clock on the mantle claimed that it was five in the morning. He groaned and staggered to his feet, stumbling into the kitchen in search for aspirin. Instead, he found two notes on the table. One was from his wife, claiming that she was visiting her friend. The other was from Dudley, claiming something similar. Had he not been, well, him, he would have noticed that both notes were written in the same exact handwriting, handwriting best suited for a member of the rich French nobility.

Vernon groaned. He was left to fix himself something to eat without anyone's help. Even The Freak refused to come out of his cupboard. Vernon would have dragged him out, had it not been for his splitting headache.

Just when he was sure that the migraine couldn't possibly get worse, someone slammed their fist into his precious front door. Repeatedly.

"All right!" Vernon snarled, leaving his precious bottle of aspirin on the table as he staggered into the front hallway. "Just a minute. All right!"

He wrenched the door open and blinked.

A tall man was standing on his step. Vernon grew even more enraged at the mere sight of him. His white beard was tucked into his belt, a pointed hat shot towards the pinkening sky, and a long pointed stick was in his hand.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Vernon snarled. "Get the hell off my step and away from my house. I won't have your kind here."

"Candidly, Mister Dursley," said the man, his eyes twinkling, "that's precisely what I wanted to talk to you about. Is there anyone in this household who is of 'my kind'?"

Vernon stared at those sparkling eyes and felt slightly calmer. He trusted this man. It was as if he was talking to his grandfather. No. Even better. It was as if he was talking to a client who was interested in buying everything he had for sale.

"You want The Freak?" he asked with a smile. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

He walked over and banged his meaty fist against the cupboard under the stairs. "Get up! You're leaving! Get up!"

But there was no answer. Upon ripping the door straight from its hinges, he realized that the small cupboard was empty. He screwed up his face in concentration as he tried to remember something. Something to do with letters, a shack, a giant, and a pig's tail.

For the life of him, he couldn't think of what it was.

"He isn't here?" asked the man at the door.

"'ppose not," Vernon said, gripping his aching head. "Come back, later, if you really want him that bad. Later, you hear? I can't deal with this, right now. Crikey, I need some aspirin."

With that, he staggered back into the kitchen. When he looked back, the only things on his doorstep were the first rays of the morning sun.

ϟϟϟ

The sun was rising and Regulus still hadn't gotten to sleep.

Dr. Thompson had tried, multiple times, to get him to rest. It was no use. He paced up and down the small staff room, a cup of disgusting coffee in hand, the liquid spilling onto the already-stained rug as he ranted. Dr. Thompson curled up in a battered chair. If she was tired at all, she didn't let it show, attentively listening to his every word.

"Harry's other goduncle tried going to Dumbledore a third time. That's when things went from bad to worse. Dumbledore told him that—well—he's got this condition that many people in the wizarding world hate. My parents would have pulled me from the school if they knew that my classmate was—that. Dumbledore used that hatred to his advantage. He told Sirius' friend that he shouldn't be around children, legally or morally, that something might go wrong. It was the last time I ever saw him. He was gone, my brother was gone, Harry's parents were gone, Harry was gone—"

Regulus finished off the coffee before muttering, "And now, we're here."

"We're here," Dr. Thompson repeated, rising up. "You're here. You can finally be with Harry. You can help him. You can raise him. You can love him."

"Yeah," he muttered. When she raised an eyebrow, he added, "Don't get me wrong; I'm glad that I have the chance. I just wish that I had it a decade ago."

"So do I," she said. "I can't believe that Albus Dumbledore would do something like this. I've heard stories about him, as well. He's supposed to be a hero but he's just a—a monster."

"_Harry's_ supposed to be a hero," Regulus pointed out, "but _he's _just a scared kid."

ϟϟϟ

Harry was scared.

He had woken up in a bed, in a hospital, with his cousin sleeping nearby. His cousin who had claimed that he loved Harry, who had apologized, who had stayed by his side, who had freed Regulus from the cursed collar.

_Regulus_.

The boy blinked, his already blurry vision even blurrier as Sleep fought to take ahold of him. He found his glasses on the bedside table before marveling at the fact that there was a bedside table. As he stuffed them on his face, peering around the hospital room, he suddenly remembered everything that had happened.

A flurry of emotions overtook the boy but fear came out on top. He leapt to his feet and realized that he was no longer in his baggy clothes. He vaguely remembered the nurses helping him change into a green hospital gown. The fear escalated as he realized that they must have seen the scars, the bruises, the way his ribs pushed out against his skin.

No, no, no, no, no.

He had to get out. He started off in a random direction, felt a strange tug in his arm, heard something tip, and was struck with a long metal pole. He fell to the ground, his arms and legs sprawled out, confusion overpowering the fear.

"Harry?"

Regulus raced into the room, both bemused and amused.

"Hi."

"What, erm, what are you doing?"

"Running away," Harry said, blinking up at him.

"Ah." The man stuffed his hands into his pockets before saying. "Far be it from me to judge but you're doing a pretty poor job at it."

The boy flushed. "Well, I was doing all right until this pole attacked me."

"That's an intravenous pole," Regulus explained, helping him to his feet and pulling the pole upright. He gestured to the tube that was securely taped to Harry's arm. "See? It's pumping Muggle medicine into your body even as we speak."

"Oh."

"Aye, you won't be able to take it out," said the man. "Not unless you want to get even sicker. And I don't think the hospital would like it if you carried it off. It wouldn't be pole-ite."

Harry sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. He decided that it didn't matter anyway; sooner or later, he would be back at the Dursleys.

"I was just trying to save you a bit of trouble," the child mumbled. "You seem nice."

"Harry, I assure you, looking after you is no trouble at all."

"No, you don't get it." He let out another long sigh. "There've been others; other people, nice people—they tried to help me. My kindergarten teacher refused to let me go home one day and drove me all the way to the hospital. Only we had just gotten into the lobby when a man showed up and said that I needed to go home. I tried talking to my teacher the next day and she screamed at me. She hated me for the rest of the year. The same thing happened a few years later. An old librarian ushered me to the police station. That man showed up again. Then there was that policeman who came to the school to talk to us about 'bad touches'. I asked him if a punch counted as a 'bad touch'. He got really funny and said he'd talk to me after the assembly was over. Only he never came back."

Regulus was unable to mask his shock.

"So, you see?" Harry asked miserably. "It doesn't matter if you're the nicest man I've ever met. You'll disappear too and I'll go back. Dudley too."

"That's not going to happen, Harry," said the former Slytherin, choosing the best words possible. "The only way you two are setting a foot in that house again is if you want to do so."

"I don't."

"Then you never will."

The child was skeptical. "Don't you get it? The man—"

"—will never get to you," Regulus promised. "Not so long as I'm around. Maybe it'll help if you tell me a bit more about him; that way I can be prepared."

His great-to-the-fifteenth-something-or-other-grandfather would have been proud of the way he was maneuvering.

Harry hesitated before saying, "He was tall and he had a really long beard like Father Christmas. Only I really don't think Father Christmas would send me back to the Dursleys. Hang on. Is Father Christmas real? I mean Dudley told me he wasn't real when we were younger but I also thought magic wasn't real and look how that turned out."

The exhausted boy was babbling. Regulus, who had just undergone a severe shock, found himself smiling.

"Guess what, Harry?" he said. "Father Christmas _is _real, although I can assure you that he isn't the one who put you in the Dursleys' home. He is far too kind for that."

The child perked up.

"I know you're scared," Regulus continued. "I know you've been through a lot in the past couple of days and I'm about to put you through even more than you can possibly imagine. Just know that I'm going to be right by your side. You'll never have to be alone again and, more importantly, you'll never have to go back to the Dursleys again."

It took a few more words of convincing but Harry eventually nodded and rested his head on his pillow. As a satisfied Regulus ducked into the corridor, the boy secretly thought that he would be a good actor if the whole 'wizard' thing didn't work out. He still didn't think there was any hope of him never returning to the Dursleys, let alone living with his "g'uncle". Still, he supposed that he could play along. For now. It was rather like a ride at a carnival. (He had never been on one but he had seen pictures.) It was going to end abruptly, leading to disappointment and nausea, but it was going to be fun while it lasted.

ϟϟϟ

Regulus was taking slow and steady breaths as he made his way down the corridor. The almost-risen sun poured in through the windows, giving the hospital an ironically serene atmosphere. He reached the nurse's station and had them call Dr. Thompson. The man smiled at the nurses and tried to act normal. Still, when the doctor showed up a few minutes later, she immediately asked, "What's wrong?"

"Who said anything's wrong?" Regulus asked, drawing her away from the desk.

"This is a hospital and you asked for a doctor."

"Maybe I just wanted to see you," he said. He wondered if her cheeks had gotten pinker or if it was his imagination. He pulled her into an empty room before asking, "Okay, you're right. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong. Dumbledore didn't just leave Harry at the Dursleys. He's gone out of his way to ensure that Harry doesn't get the help he needs. He interfered at other hospitals. What if—?"

"That won't happen," Dr. Thompson said, standing slightly straighter with a determined look. "I'll alert every staff member in the hospital. We'll keep him out."

The man sighed with relief.

"Let's do it subtly," he advised. "We'll carry on like nothing happened. That'll make Harry more relaxed. The poor kid almost ran away this morning."

"Good idea," she said. "Although, Mister Black, I have to wonder—"

She broke off and he asked, "Wonder what?"

"Why didn't you take him to _your _hospital?"

He hesitated before plainly saying, "There are people who think I'm dead. There are people who _want _me dead and, honestly, the same can be said for Harry. In the wizarding world, gossip travels faster than the new Nimbus broom. The minute we entered the lobby, the Daily Prophet—that's our newspaper—would have had a field day. I knew that Great Ormond was neutral and private enough to keep the boy safe. Plus I've always been fond of J.M. Barrie."

With that and a small smile, he left the doctor to her duties. Looking more like a soldier than a medical professional, Dr. Thompson raced off to warn everyone of what was most likely going to come. Regulus returned to the wing and collapsed into the chair. He summoned a newspaper and busied himself with current events, trying to gain information that he couldn't gain as a cat. He was well-into an article about the Prime Minister when the boys' eyes opened.

"Good morning," Regulus said pleasantly.

"You're still here," Harry whispered.

"Yes, I'm still here," he said. "I told you that I wasn't going anywhere. Are you boys hungry?"

He internally winced as he remembered last night's affairs. Perhaps this was why Dudley's face was pinker than normal. Both boys shook their heads. Regulus suspected that Harry wouldn't ever admit if he was starving or not.

Still, as hard as he tried, the boy couldn't keep his eyes from widening as an orderly brought in two trays of food. Dudley picked at his but Harry wolfed down everything in front of him until Regulus gently admonished him. The child, who was just about to bite into a napkin, flushed and apologized.

Several feet away, Dudley was closely watching Regulus, waiting for the moment when the man would reveal to Harry just how embarrassing he had been last night. He didn't. Instead, Regulus gave the boy a kind smile and told him that Dr. Thompson wanted to speak to him. The woman showed up several minutes later and though Dudley was annoyed that he had to stand—and afraid of where he was going—he followed her.

Once they were gone, Regulus turned to Harry and said, "Now, Harry, I still have a lot of questions, and I expect you have questions for me. How about we make a game of it? For every question I ask, you get to ask me something. No lying. However, you can choose to 'pass'."

Harry hesitated before agreeing.

"You can start," Regulus said.

"Um, okay." He hesitated before asking, "What did you mean earlier when you said that you were a Lord?"

"Hm," Regulus said. "Well, just like in the Muggle world, in the wizarding world, there are families that have stretched back for generations. Usually these families are linked to some sort of royalty. If you're in one of those families then on your seventeenth birthday, you get the title of Lord or Lady . There's a lot of boring legality to it but that's the basics. As far as I'm aware, I'm the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Since I'm the last one who isn't dead, exiled, or imprisoned, I would also be the Lord of the family."

"Oh."

Harry looked at his blanket for awhile. He had sort of hoped that Regulus had fifty brothers and sisters, a large family that he could sort of slip into and belong.

"My turn," Regulus said. "Why _did _Dudley have a tail?"

"Oh, that was 'cause of Hagrid," Harry said. "When he came to get me, he gave me a birthday cake. Only Dudley started eating it. Hagrid waved his umbrella and—pig tail."

Regulus subtly took a few deep breaths, not even wanting to think about the fifty things that were wrong with that statement. Still, he thought about them all the same.

Hagrid could do magic? Regulus hadn't been as close to the giant as the Marauders had. As far as he knew, Hagrid had been expelled and his wand had been snapped. How the hell was he able to do magic? With an umbrella no less? Come to think of it, why had Hogwarts sent Hagrid at all? Surely Professor McGonagall would have been a better choice? Or Flitwick. Or Sprout. Or Slughorn. Or a ghoul. Or a venomous tentacula.

"My turn," Harry said. "Can you—can you turn into Crookshanks?"

He blinked and suddenly found himself facing his temporary pet. Crookshanks leapt onto the bed, purring as he spread out across Harry's chest. The boy giggled and began to pet him, his fingers clutching the orange fur. He was so focused on the warmth of the animal that he barely noticed the tears that were rolling down his cheeks.

"I really _am _sorry that Vernon hurt you," Harry whispered. "Don't take it personally. He hurts everyone. Well, he was always somewhat decent to Dudley and Petunia. He didn't hold back on me, though. You probably figured that out, didn't you? A lot of it was my fault. I always messed things up. That's when he would start screaming and—do you know what's funny? I think most kids would say that being hurt is the worst part, or maybe the lack of food—that was hard—but I think the screaming was the thing I hated the most. That's probably weird."

Crookshanks gave him a long look before leaping off of the bed, transforming into Regulus before his feet even hit the ground.

"Harry, listen to me," he quietly said. "If you're weird, it's because you happen to be a child who can do extraordinary magic. Not because of any feelings you have. Got it?"

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. "I mean—I think I know. I always knew that I wasn't a freak, no matter what the Dursleys called me."

Regulus gave him the same long look that Crookshanks had, before asking, "Did _all _of the Dursleys call you that?"

"Well, I can't remember if Aunt Marge's husband ever said anything."

"Did Dudley call you that?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Harry shrugged, as if he couldn't understand why Regulus was even asking. "But you heard him. He apologized. He's different. A lot different."

Regulus hesitated before saying, "Well, speaking of Dudley—"

ϟϟϟ

On the morning of 2nd August 1991, Dudley threw a record-breaking tantrum.

Record-breaking in the sense that it had lasted more than three minutes and twenty-seven seconds—he had always kept track. In fact, he was nearing five whole minutes of screaming and throwing items from the receptionists' desk.

Several doctors, nurses, and orderlies crowded around him, each holding a clipboard with the same colorful page on it. Dr. Orville had a lackey pull out a clipboard and read: "'We understand that you are upset and we sympathize with what you are going through—'"

The clipboard went flying down the corridor.

He had just thrown a snow globe against the wall when the shattered pieces hovered. It was enough to make Dudley pause, the prepared scream catching in his throat. He watched with wide eyes as the pieces put themselves back together and soared back over to the desk. The clipboard did the same, as did the other things he had thrown.

Dudley could only blink, awestruck, before suddenly realizing that the presence of some magic meant the presence of someone magical.

Regulus was marching down the corridor, Harry's wand in his hand, a frown on his face.

"Dudley," he said frankly, "what the bloody hell are you _doing_?"

Dudley, who was more surprised by the question than the show of magic, let out a nervous laugh. It was nervous for _he _was nervous. This wasn't how his tantrums went. Oh, yes, he knew that they were tantrums. He wasn't exactly proud of them, but they were works of art.

Only, Regulus didn't seem to appreciate the art. In fact, he looked downright angry, enough to make Dudley back up until he bumped into another adult. The adult in question happened to be Dr. Orville, who said, "Lord Black, far be it from me to critique, but that's not how we normally calm children when they act like this."

"No?" Regulus asked. "Well, it seemed to work for _this _child." He twirled the wand before stuffing it into his belt loop. "I don't do things normally. I also don't do screaming. I had enough of that from my mother."

At the last word, Dudley burst into frustrated tears. Regulus closed the distance between them. Annoyed as he was, the man still took the time to crouch down and put a hand on Dudley's shoulder. The boy sniffed and wailed, "They won't let me see her!"

"My mother?" Regulus asked. "Well, I imagine not, she's dead."

"My mother might be dead!" Dudley shrieked. "Or dying! And these bastards won't let me go in and see her!"

"Dudley, stop." Regulus said, throwing out all sorts of mixed signals as he gave the boy's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I know you're upset but these doctors do not deserve to be insulted. They're just doing their jobs. Petunia isn't dead." Regulus stole a quick look at Dr. Thompson to confirm, something that wasn't unnoticed by Dudley. "She _may _be ill but that's just it—she's already not feeling well. How do you think she's going to feel when she sees you acting like this?"

Dudley stared at him, miserable and confused, before guessing: "Proud?"

"N-no, she wouldn't—" Regulus broke off before saying, "Well, maybe she would be, but _I'm_ not proud. Upset or not, this behavior is unacceptable. Harry's currently hiding beneath his bed. We heard you from the other end of the hospital. He's scared. He seemed to think that you were going to hurt someone, namely him, and I'm not completely convinced that you won't."

"I won't," Dudley said. "I promise. I won't ever hurt him again."

"But you already have," Regulus said. "You scared him. You made him remember the times that you hurt him in the past. I know that you're trying to reconcile your mistakes, but you can't do that, if you turn around and make the same mistakes again."

"But Mummy wouldn't care!"

"But Harry cares, and I care."

Dudley stepped back, blinking in just as much wonder as when he had seen literal magic.

"Y-you care?"

"Of course, I care," Regulus said. "I care about what you do because I care about _you_. Yes, Dudley, I care about you. I want to help you. I know that you've been through a lot of scary ordeals in the past few days, and I hate to pile another worry on top of it, but have you thought about where you're going to stay? Your mum will probably have to stay in the hospital for awhile. She needs to heal; she needs to get better. But, in the meantime, I'm not about to send you back to Vernon so—Dudley? Hey! Are you all right?"

None of the magic that Dudley had seen came close to shocking him as much as Regulus' simple statement. He had reeled back into Dr. Thompson, refusing to believe it, doing his best to question it: "Wh—what? You're not? You're really not?"

"I'm not what?"

"Y-you're not sending me back?"

Regulus stared at him, shocked, before crying, "Dudley, of course not! Vernon—what he did to both of you—in his current state of mind—I'm not sending you back there. I suppose, eventually, if you really wanted to go back and he showed that he was capable of—"

And then, a sobbing Dudley hugged him.

Regulus took a second to gather himself before gathering the boy.

"It's okay," the adult whispered. "I'm here. I know that I don't know you that well, but I still care about you. You don't have to go back to Vernon. I'll look after you."

"B-but why?" Dudley bawled. "I'm not your family."

"Sure, you are," he teased. "You're my brother's brother's wife's nephew."

"But I'm not Harry!"

"No, you're not," Regulus said. "You're Dudley. You're a child who needs protection. I'm going to protect you both. I'm going to be there for you both." He pulled back a smide to ensure that Dudley saw his serious he looked. "That said, I _do _care about Harry's safety. I know that children throw tantrums, and I don't expect you to completely stop, but—"

"I'll stop," Dudley said, making a promise that he couldn't keep, but out of the best intentions. "I promise. I won't hurt Harry. You won't have to send me off!"

Regulus held back a sigh as he saw just how desperate the boy was. Keeping his face neutral, he said, "Even if living with us doesn't work out, I would make sure that you went with a trusted friend. No matter what you do, unless you wanted to go back, I would never send you back to Vernon. You never have to worry about that."

He brought Dudley closer and let him cry into chest. The other doctors, nurses, and staff members—the ones who had all crowwded to follow a strict protocol on how to comfort a strawman child—shuffled away in confusion and frustration. Only Dr. Thompson remained, looking thrown off by the entire ordeal, but stable enough to learn from it.

After several moments, Regulus asked, "Was that why you wanted to get to Petunia? You wanted to get to one parent so that you didn't have to go back to the other?"

Dudley's head bobbed up and down. He sniffed and added, "Well, also, I wanted to make sure she was okay. But, yeah, I thought—if they saw me with Mum then—then they would think that we were okay together. They wouldn't send me back to Dad."

"You will never be sent back to Vernon," Regulus repeated. "But you can't live in a hospital room, either. I _am _prepared to take you and Harry in, if you want. Otherwise, we could try to find one of your friends' families. Harry just mentioned something about a boy called Piers. That sounds more like where you would load your boats, than a human person, but I suppose that if you wanted to stay with him—"

"Piers is great," Dudley admitted. "His parents don't care about anything. They let us eat as much pizza and ice-cream as we want and they let us play video-games until we fall asleep and they let us break things and I want to stay with you."

The last bit came out in a rush.

Regulus smiled and said, "Well, that's good, because I want you to stay with me, too."

He stood up and added, "I also want you to go down and make sure that Harry isn't scared. I just talked to him about us living together, but you two can discuss it further and—"

"Wait, you talked to him, already?" Dudley repeated. "So, you had already decided—?"

"Oh, sure, Dudley," Regulus said with a snort. "I was thinking about taking you in the moment I saw you hiding behind that shrub. By the time you took the collar off of me, I was making the mental preparations. There was never a doubt in my mind. The only barriers came from whether you wanted to come with us or not."

"I do!"

"Then, there's nothing further that needs to be discussed," Regulus said. "Well, no, actually, there's a lot that needs to be discussed. Especially between you and Harry. Go on."

He watched as Dudley raced down the corridor, passing a snack cart, his eyes set on nothing but the door to their room. Only when he entered did Regulus deflate. It was Dr. Thompson's turn to catch _his _shoulder, keeping him from falling asleep on the spot. He couldn't sleep. He had so much work to do.

"You mean it?" Dr. Thompson asked. "You'd be willing to take him in?"

"Of course!"

She let out a sigh of relief before asking, "And you've already formed a concrete plan to legally transition through the process?"

"Oh, no, not at all, I have no idea how I'm going to accomplish any of this, and I'm certain that some of it won't be entirely legal," Regulus said, putting his hands on his hips with a grin. "But, you know, James _did _always call me an Honorary Marauder—"

ϟϟϟ

As a proclaimed 'Honorary Marauder', Regulus had been privy to many of the Marauders inventions. In his opinion, nothing was quite as impressive as the Marauders Map, but James' Invisibility Cloak was definitely up there in the ranks. He wished that he had the Invisibility Cloak more than ever, if only so that Petunia and Dudley couldn't see the weird faces he was surely making. In his defence, how else was he supposed to respond to a seemingly endless loop of:

"Oh, Dudders, my sweet baby angel, my lovely boy, my dear Dudders—"

Seeing Dudley smile as he sat on the edge of his mother's hospital bed, tightly embracing her, was the only thing that kept Regulus from puking. That and the fact that Dr. Thompson was also in the room, eyeing him as much as the mother and son. At one point, Regulus crossed his eyes, just to get her to giggle.

The noise caused Petunia and Dudley to look up.

Regulus and Dr. Thompson stared back, their faces shining with innocence, the former asking, "Something wrong?"

Dudley gave him a knowing look but he was still confident enough to lean back into his mother's embrace and whisper, "I wish you didn't have to be sick."

"It's okay, Dudders," Petunia said. "I'm not that ill. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to leave the hospital and get a cab back to Privet Drive and—"

The child's face went as white as the walls.

"Ill or not, you're clearly mad," Regulus spoke up. "The doctors, the nurses, and I all saw evidence of Vernon's abuse. We're not letting either child go back there. Yes, there are two children. Forgotten about your nephew already, have you?"

She scowled and said, "You have no idea what I've been through."

"Frankly, I don't," he admitted. "Frankly, I don't care. I know that you're sick, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm more interested in what Harry and Dudley have been through. Mainly, I'm interested in how I can keep them from repeating what they've been through. I wouldn't dare presume what your feelings towards him are, but I can presume that you would be better off if you were away from that house, as well."

Petunia hesitated before saying, "I suppose that we can take a holiday. We can always call on Yvonne. Yes, that would be lovely, wouldn't it, dear? We can go down to the coast, down to Brighton, and have a nice little holiday."

"Pe-tu-ni-a," Regulus said, enunciating every syllable. "You're _ill_. The only place you're going is another hospital. Out of everyone in this room, I definitely care the least about what happens to you, and I still know that you need help."

"B-but Dudley—"

"It's okay, Mum," Dudley said. "Regulus said that he'd take me in."

For a moment, Regulus was worried that Petunia was going to die right on the spot. She seemed to actually stop breathing for a moment, her lips turning blue, her cheeks turning red, her glare turning into daggers.

"Absolutely not," she hissed. "I don't want my son to be raised by a freak."

"I completely understand," Regulus said. "I didn't want Harry to be raised a freak, either. Imagine my horror when I found out he was being raised by you."

Petunia lunged from the bed, much to Dudley's horror. Dr. Thompson cried out but Regulus merely leaned back to avoid her grasp. Petunia couldn't go very far, eventually collapsing against Dr. Thompson, who escorted her back to the bed. In the chaos and confusion, Dudley slammed into Regulus' side, causing the man to put an arm around his shoulders. The two watched as several nurses raced in, one injecting Petunia—Regulus covered Dudley's eyes—until the woman fell back onto her pillow.

Dudley pushed Regulus' hand away and cried, "Mummy?"

"You'll take Dudley away over my dead body," Petunia spat. Regulus secretly thought that a lot of people were saying bold things to a man who had once been a terrorist. "What do you know about raising a child?"

"I know that I'm willing to raise one," Regulus said. "I'm willing to raise two. You know who I am. You know how rich my family is. Dudley will have everything he could ever want. He'll have everything that he could ever need. He'll have me and he'll have Harry. I'll make sure that Vernon never gets to him. I'll make sure that he is safe, that he is healthy, that he is cared for."

"No, no, no," Petunia said, her eyelids beginning to droop. "I won't let you take him. I won't go to another hospital. I refuse. I can't even afford the treatments! That's why Vernon wouldn't let me get them. Do you know how expensive they are? I can't—I—"

When Regulus was sixteen, he branded his arm with a symbol of a terrorist, a monster, a devil. He danced with other demons. He tortured. He hurt. He manipulated. He had done far worse things than what he was about to do, but that still didn't mean he wasn't internally wincing as he leaned forward and whispered, "I could pay for your treatment."

"W-what?"

"Listen to me," he said. "If you let Dudley come with me, now, then I'll pay for your treatment. You can get better and, once your healthy and stable enough to take him in, if he wants to go with you, you two can be a proper family. I'm offering you a lifebuoy, Petunia. I'm offering you _both _lifebuoys. Let me help your family. Let me help your son. Right now, I'm the only one who can."

"You can't," Petunia breathed. "You don't even have the proper documents. There are papers at the house—birth certificates, health cards, everything."

"That's all right," Regulus said. "Ever since Harry brought me home last night, I've been interested in seeing what your award-winning garden looks like in the proper light."

ϟϟϟ

Little Whinging was ugly.

Regulus looked around, deciding that he would never be able to get drunk, for he wouldn't know which identical house was his. The sun baked the back of his neck as he strolled down the rough cobblestone. Dudley trudged along to his left. Regulus had spent a quarter of an hour arguing with the child, who insisted that he come along. In the end, Regulus had admitted that he wouldn't have known where to go. Even now, he ended up Apparating them nearly a mile out of the way, with Dudley guiding them back to Privet Drive. Fortunately, Harry wasn't with them. After briefly talking to the boy, it was obvious that he never wanted to set foot in Surrey again, something that was fine by Regulus. When Regulus asked if he needed anything from his bedroom, Harry had turned scarlet and had mumbled something about art.

"Dad _should _be at work," Dudley said, interrupting his thoughts. "Only—what if—?"

Regulus turned to give him a smile. To anyone else, it would have seemed strange, a man smiling to a lamppost. The boy had been placed under a Disillusionment Charm, though Regulus could practically envision his nervous-but-tough exterior.

"It will be safe," he promised. "I won't let anything happen to you. That said, if you don't want to do this, I can take you right back to the hospital."

"No, it's okay," Dudley said. "Besides, somebody should be there when you see it. I think—well—it's like witnessing something big, you know?"

Regulus didn't know but he figured that Dudley would explain himself in time. The two continued on, walking around the corner of Privet Drive. Regulus heard Dudley stop again.

Pausing, the Slytherin said, "You're under a special charm to make sure that nobody sees you. No one will ever know that you're here. That said, I don't know exactly where you are. I know that you're eleven and you're too old for this, but if you want to take my hand, I think it would make things much easier all around."

There was a long pause before Regulus felt a hand intertwine with his.

The two set off, again, and Dudley muttered, "I have a gang."

"Oh?"

"Well, a group. A—collection—of—well—not friends but—people who like me. We're considered the toughest kids in the neighborhood. Now, I'm holding someone's hand, getting my stuff to run away, because I'm too scared to be near Dad. I wonder what they'd all think of me."

"Candidly, Dudley," Regulus said, "I wonder what _you_ think of _them_."

Dudley contemplated that as they snuck into his former home. The charm faded away, with Regulus' assurance that he would put it on in a nanosecond, if he thought it was necessary.

"Right, then." Regulus clapped his hands together. "Which bedroom is yours and which bedroom is Harry's?"

"Yeah, about that."

Dudley let out a sigh, his head hung, as he trudged over to the staircase. Despite his bent neck, he still lifted his eyes, taking in Regulus' face. Oh, he had been good, trying to mask everything he felt. Dudley had to give him credit for that. But even the hardest people let their feelings escape, every now and then. Dudley knew that better than anyone. Which was why he wasn't the least bit surprised—rather relieved, to be honest—when he pushed open the door to the cupboard and faced a look of pure horror.*****

"No," Regulus whispered. "No, no, no, no, no—"

"This is where he slept," Dudley dully said. "See, his art's on the door. If you go upstairs, you'll find four rooms. One's a guest room for when my aunt comes to visit. The other's my parents' room. Then, there's my bedrooms. I have two. Enough for all of my toys."

His eyes finally fell, having seen enough of Regulus' grief.

He trudged halfway up the stairs, sinking down onto one of the steps, burying his face in his hands. He sat there for a quarter of an hour.

During that time, Regulus tried very hard to remember just why he was needed in the real world, and why he would not benefit from a lifelong trip to Azkaban. Even if it meant seeing Sirius again. No, killing Vernon Dursley was not worth leaving Harry and Dudley. Then again, he had been a Death Eater. He knew ways to murder without it being traced back to him. No, if someone _did _find out. Then again—

These were the exact thoughts that plagued his mind as he stepped past Dudley, heading upstairs to collect essential items from both of his rooms. He noticed just how many broken toys were scattered on the floor. From Dudley's tantrums or his father's? Regulus didn't know; he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He came down and carefully pulled all of Harry's artwork from the cupboard door, performing a quick spell that would forever preserve the paintings. It was the only thing he took from the cupboard. Harry hadn't wanted anything else and, honestly, nothing else was salvageable. Harry would get new clothes, a new bed, an _actual_ bed—he had a damn mattress on the floor for Merlin's sake—he would get new _everything_. Including a new life.

He wasn't the only one.

Having finally secured everything from their 'rooms', Regulus followed Petunia's directions and found a chest in the dining room, containing several crucial health and citizenship documents. He found an old school binder and put everything inside. He then put everything _aside_ and join Dudley on the steps.

Regulus took the boy's hands and coaxed them from his eyes.

"Do you think Harry hates me?" Dudley whispered.

Regulus scooched closer and said, "No, I don't. I think he used to be afraid of you, and he might still be at times, but I don't think he hates you at all. On the contrary, I think he loves you. I think he's waited a long time for you to return that love. I think, if anything, he's happy and relieved that you two can finally be a family."

"So am I," Dudley whispered.

"I know you are."

Dudley still wasn't convinced, shaking his head and mumbling, "I would hate me. I _do _hate me. I wish none of this had happened. I wish things could have been different. I wish _I _could have been different."

Regulus surveyed him for a moment before saying, "When I was sixteen, I joined a terrorist organization. That experience made for the darkest moments of my life. I won't scare you with the details but I was a completely different person. I was a monster. And, now, I look back on who I used to be, and it makes me sick. I want to physically vomit whenever I think about it. I hate that part of me. I hate him. But I also know that I'm not that person, anymore, and I don't hate who I've become. Because I've worked hard to become someone better and I'll keep working hard, always trying to be better, until I can become someone who's proud to be me."

Dudley rested his head against Regulus' shoulder, smiling slightly when his new guardian wrapped an arm around him.

"We can be new people," Regulus promised. "We can be a new family. But we can't do that if we spend all of our time hating ourselves for our past mistakes. Our past isn't as important as our future. And even though I hate events in my past, they led to me sitting here, with you. And I'm glad that I'm here. I'm glad that I get to spend my future with you."

Dudley's smile stretched and he repeated, "So am I."

Regulus' smile froze as the back of his neck prickled, a sensation that swept down his spine. It was a sensation that he had felt, ever since he had mastered his Animagus transformation. Something was wrong. Someone was coming.

A shadow appeared on the sidelight.

Regulus had just enough time to put them both under the Disillusionment Charm. He already had one arm around Dudley's shoulders and used it to pull the boy closer. His other hand went to Dudley's mouth as the door opened.

His hand muffled Dudley's scream, preventing the intruder from immediately spotting them. Regulus had no doubt that it would only be a matter of seconds. He slowly scooched himself up to the next step, pulling Dudley up with him, keeping a hand over his mouth.

Despite what his own self-deprecation told him, Dudley was not a fool. He knew well enough to know that if Regulus was afraid, something was very wrong. Regulus hadn't even been afraid of his father. And yet, Dudley could feel his new guardian trembling.

He couldn't really see why. The man who had entered certainly wasn't as massive or as intimidating as his father. On the contrary, he seemed _fragile_. Waves of white hair were tucked into his belt, on either side of an impressively long beard. His suit was mismatched but Dudley had seen enough in the past few days to not judge someone based on clothing. After all, the man seemed nice enough, his blue eyes sparkling like Dudley's late grandfather's had. He almost thought that he could trust this man.

Except Regulus clearly didn't trust him.

And Dudley trusted Regulus.

Which was why he carefully mimicked his guardian's movements, sensing them only through touch and intuition. The two slowly scooched up the stairs, Dudley breathing into Regulus' palm, Regulus not breathing at all. They watched as the man walked over to the folder. He placed a gnarled hand on the cover, as if he could sense everything that was inside.

Then, he looked at them.

Regulus immediately changed tactics, pulling them both to his feet, and hissing, "Go!"

Dudley didn't need to be told twice. He whimpered as they raced up the stairs, taking comfort from the arm that was still around his shoulders.

"In here!" Regulus whispered, pushing him into his parents' bedroom.

As soon as the door closed, Dudley let out a sob. "Regulus?"

"It's okay," Regulus said, though it clearly wasn't. "Everything's okay. I'll Apparate us both out of here and—"

"What about Harry's artwork?" Dudley asked, trying to figure out where Regulus' face was so that he could look up at it. "We promised that we'd get it."

"I wish we could," Regulus said, and Dudley could hear the longing in his voice. "I really wish we could. But I also promised to keep you safe. If I have to choose between the two promises, I'd rather choose that one."

They could hear the intruder coming up the stairs, just as slowly as they had initially climbed. Regulus was about to Apparate them away when Dudley squirmed, an action that would reduce him to a Splinched mess if they moved. Regulus gritted his teeth as the boy whispered, "Wait! What about the other documents? What did Mum have you get?"

"Health forms, birth certificates, nothing that can't be replaced," Regulus hissed. "Dudley, we need to go, now! Hang onto me!"

Dudley did the exact opposite, pulling away from the horrified man. He raced over to the side of the bed, lifted the mattress, and grabbed something. Regulus couldn't tell what it was. It became invisible as soon as the boy put it into his pocket, only adding to Regulus' frustration.

"Dudley, come _on!_"

Racing back over, crashing into the invisible man, Dudley asked, "Who _is _that? He looks like Merlin or something."

"Oh, he wishes," Regulus whispered. "His name's Albus Dumbledore. He's an extremely powerful wizard, which is why—"

He could have Apparated them. He should have Apparated them. He lost the chance to Apparate them when Dudley pulled back.

His voice was filled with venom as he hissed, "Regulus, undo the spell."

"I'm not going to do that, Dudley, on the grounds that it's a terrible idea."

"Trust me!"

Regulus hesitated before muttering the counterspell. Dudley appeared before him, his face red and pinched. He looked downright feverish.

"Dudley—"

"Turn into a cat and follow me."

"No, absolutely not," Regulus remarked. "I'm Apparating us both out of here; it's the best plan we've got."

"It's the easiest plan but it's not the best plan," Dudley said, taking deep breaths. "Just trust me, okay? I'm sick of running and I'm sick of wizards breaking into my house!"

With that, he threw open the door and charged. Regulus let out a small cry of horror before transforming into a cat, Harry's wand in his mouth. He caught up with Dudley just as the boy raced downstairs. He didn't slam into Dumbledore. He didn't have to.

All he had to do was scream:

"Who are you? Get out of my house! Get out! Help! Help! Get out! Help!"

Dumbledore stumbled backwards, slipping down the steps. He managed to catch himself on the banister. Dudley charged past him, seizing the folder, using it to repeatedly hit the old man, all while shrieking at the top of his lungs: "Get out! Get out! Help! Stranger! Get out!"

Privet Drive was used to Dudley's screams. They might have ignored him, entirely, had it not been for the actual words. Within seconds, neighbors were dropping their hoses and abandoning their mowers, racing towards the already-open door.

"Help me!" Dudley screeched, tears pouring down his face. "I don't want to go with him! Don't let him take me! Help!"

He got in one more blow, slamming the folder into the wizard's nose, before the entire neighborhood burst through the doorway. In the chaos of them grabbing onto the shocked wizard, Dudley was able to ironically slip away. He raced down the now-abandoned pavement, a cat running at his side.

Only when they were three streets over, sirens ringing in the air, did Regulus transform. He grabbed onto Dudley to stop him from running, though physics ended up spinning the boy around. Regulus, always the proper Slytherin, took advantage of the motion. He twirled the laughing boy, all while crowing, "Dudley, that was brilliant!"

Dudley backed away, flushed with pride and adrenaline. Still, he gave Regulus the same shocked look that he had donned when the man had admitted that he had cared about him.

"What?" Regulus cried.

"Nobody's ever called me brilliant."

"Nobody's ever seen you take on the most powerful wizard in the world!"

Dudley laughed, again, and Regulus added, "Absolutely brilliant! Now, unless you have any other plans, we need to get back to the hospital."

"Can we stop in the gift shop?" Dudley wondered. "I want to get something for Harry."

Regulus hesitated before saying, "Well, I don't know how I would pay for—"

He paused as Dudley fished the item from his pocket.

"Dad's emergency wallet," he said. "Mum doesn't know about it. I shouldn't know about it, either, but I'm smarter than Dad thinks."

This time, it was Regulus' look that caused Dudley to ask, "What?"

"Nothing," Regulus whispered. "I just really wish you were going to Hogwarts. I wouldn't have to buy anything. I'd just give you all my hand-me-downs. Brill-i-ant."

He continued to smile, even as Dudley spent nearly twenty minutes in the gift shop, trying to look for the perfect gift for Harry. In the end, he bought his cousin a stuffed snake, a squishy little thing with eyes that bulged when Harry hugged it.

"Thanks, D!"

"Don't mention it," Dudley said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought—well—you know—because—the zoo—"

"Oh, yeah!"

"I guess that explains why the glass disappeared," Dudley said. "You being a wizard, I mean. You must have done some sort of magic."

"Yeah, that sounds like me," Harry said with a sigh. "Always doing freaky things."

Regulus' head shot up and he said, "Harry, we've established this, you are _not _a freak. I'm not entirely sure what happened with the zoo, but it sounds like you simply had a burst of accidental magic. Everyone does it."

"W-what, everyone?" Harry repeated. "_Everyone _locks their cousin in a snake exhibit?"

Regulus' lips twitched and he said, "Err, well, no."

"I once shrunk a sweater that Aunt Petunia bought me and I've made pencils and papers fly across the classroom and I once regrew my hair overnight after she shaved it and I once broke a picture frame and I think that their food burns whenever I get angry at them."

"What, like, burns on the table?"

"No, when I'm cooking it."

"He cooked for us," Dudley muttered.

"Oh, it's like peeling an onion," Regulus said with a sigh.

Harry blinked and said, "Yeah, I guess, I cooked onions and lentils and potatoes and, well, just about everything. The only time I didn't cook was when I was in my cupboard."

"I'm hungry," Dudley abruptly said.

Regulus caught the double-meaning and nodded. "Why don't we page Dr. Thompson and the two of you can talk about that hunger. Then, she can take you to go see your mother."

With one boy safely sent off, Regulus transformed into Crookshanks and leapt onto Harry's bed. He wasn't able to say anything but Harry didn't feel much like talking, instead burying his face in the ginger fur. When Regulus finally transformed back, he held the boy close, prompting Harry to say, "It's silly, right? I'm supposed to be old enough to cook for my family and keep up the house and garden, but I feel small enough that I just want to pet a cat and be hugged by you."

"That's not silly, Harry," Regulus said. "_This _is silly."

He pulled a funny face and Harry burst out laughing.

"You _aren't _old enough to cook for them or keep up their property," Regulus corrected. "And you'll never be too old to get a hug from me."

Harry leaned against him and asked, "It really will be different now, won't it?"

"As different as each star," Regulus promised. "You, Dudley, and I have been through trials and tribulations that nobody should ever have to go through, but I'd like to believe that those are far behind us. We're going to have a proper home and be a proper family."

"I'd like that," Harry said with a smile.

"I'd like that as well."

"And Petunia? Is she okay with it?"

"Oh, sure, she's tickety-boo."

ϟϟϟ

"He will _not _be gong!"

Regulus rolled his eyes and said, "One minute, you're giving me permission to take your son to a better life, the next, you're _seriously _making me miss the days when I carried around vials of masterfully-brewed poison."

Dr. Thompson touched his arm, looking sympathetic, even as she said, "Statements like that aren't helping your cause."

"People like her aren't helping the universe!" Regulus took a step forward until he was towering over Petunia's bed. "If you want to go back home and get used as a punching bag then I can't help you. Well, I can, but I'm not sure I want to. But I will not let you put Dudley back in that household."

"It's not up to you," Petunia snapped.

"You're right," he said. "It's up to Dudley."

All eyes turned to the boy, who had flattened himself against the wall of the hospital room, more hungry than ever before. He glanced from his mother to the man he had met not twenty-four hours ago. His voice trembled as he said, "I want to go with Regulus."

"No, Dudders, no, you don't!" Petunia cried. "He must be hypnotizing you with that freakish magic of yours."

"If I was going to 'hypnotize' anyone, it would be _you_."

"Nobody's hypnotized me," Dudley said, his face flushing. "I'm allowed to have my own thoughts and I think I would be safe with Regulus."

"I've always given you what you want—" Petunia said with a sob. "Surely, you can understand that I only have your best interests at heart."

"I know you've always given me what I want but—" Dudley broke off suddenly and glanced at Regulus. It was obvious that they were sharing the same thought.

Regulus eventually shrugged and mouthed, 'Try for three?'

His first 'artwork' had been a dud, his second 'artwork' had been a masterpiece. His third 'artwork' was the bloody Starry Night. Dudley threw his head back and _screamed_. Regulus stepped back to admire the child's handiwork. Dr. Thompson went to rush forward but Regulus gently caught her hand, shaking his head, whispering, "Trust us."

"I—" She flushed and said, "I _don't _trust you. And you can't ask me to trust you when you admitted that you're a terrorist and when you're setting a cancer-stricken woman up to be bullied by her son!"

"I can't?" Regulus asked. "Then why did I just do that?"

She sighed but stood by to watch the show.

"_I WANT TO GO WITH REGULUS! I WANT TO GO WITH REGULUS! I WANT TO GO WITH REGULUS! I WANT TO GO WITH REGULUS! I WANT TO GO WITH REGULUS! I WANT TO GO WITH REGULUS! I WANT TO GO WITH REGULUS!"_

Seven minutes and thirteen seconds.

A personal record.

Regulus was more than proud as he caught the collapsing boy who did his best to suck on large gulps of air, all while listening to his mother say, "All right, Dudders, all right. If you really want this then Mummy will let you live with Regulus. Just until I'm better."

Regulus' mouth turned up at the edges. "A pleasure doing business with you, Petunia."

"You're going to hell"

"Yeah, I'll see you there," Regulus said. "We'll have drinks."

He turned and put his hands on Dudley's shoulder, kneeling down so that the two were at eye-level. "Are you absolutely sure that you want to go with me?"

"I just screamed it, like, three-hundred times!"

"I know you did, it was impressive," Regulus said. "But I also know that you're eleven and you're bound to make quick decisions. So, I want you both to listen to me: I swear on my magic that I will always honor you, Dudley. If you want to return to your mother, at any given time, then I will honor your wishes. I will honor your safety and I will honor your being. On my magic, thus it be sworn, thus it be carried."

A silver glow swept around him.

When it faded away, Dudley sniffed and wrapped his arms around Regulus. Regulus was more than willing to return the hug. He only looked up when he heard someone else sniffing. Petunia wiped her eyes and gave him a small nod, one that he solemnly returned.

The only other person left to confront was Dr. Thompson. She continued to smile and comfort Dudley as they walked him back to the bedroom. She continued to smile as she loudly asked Regulus if he could sign some paperwork for her. She continued to smile as she pulled him into a broom cupboard. Only when the door shut did her smile fade. She raised a hand and Regulus immediately leapt back into the wall with a cry, "Wait, don't hit me, you'll only hurt yourself!"

"W-what?"

"I have this static charge that goes off whenever I'm in danger," Regulus said. "Unless you're Bellatrix and being electrocuted doesn't phase you—"

"I wasn't going to hit you!"

"Oh." He straightened back up. "Sorry for the accusation. What _were _you doing?"

"You have cat fur on your shirt."

"Oh, yeah, the perks of being an Animagus."

He twisted on the spot and transformed into the animal for her, smiling at the look of awe on her face. He then twisted back, covered with more fur than ever. She reached up and brushed it from his chest. The static charge didn't flare up, though the room _did _get infinitely warmer. Stepping back, she asked, "Why is it ginger?"

"Pardon?"

"Your fur; why is it ginger?"

"Oh, I was briefly adopted by these kids who—well—let's just say they were grounded for a week, which I honestly thought was unfair," Regulus said. "'Didn't stay in that household for long. 'Could not remotely stand the mother. 'Kids were all right, though. Then again, I've always had a soft-spot for children. Not in a weird way, mind. In a 'everyone is being abused these days and I want to do something about that' way. But, yeah, if you're wondering why my name is 'Black', my hair is black, and my fur is red, just blame the concept of children."

"It's just another anomaly," Dr. Thompson said softly. She rested the back of her head on the wall and said, "I've studied so much of the wizarding world and I've come no closer to understanding it. The only thing I've figured out is that nothing is ever simple. You want to protect those children but you constantly bring up the fact that you were a terrorist and you obviously have no moral qualms when it comes to how far you're willing to go to look after them. And on the one hand, I'm glad that someone cares that much. On the other hand, what does that say about your own soul?"

"My soul drowned years ago," Regulus said. "Literally, drowned. I have no doubt that I'm destined for an eternity of pain and suffering—"

"Well, that's pessimistic—"

"—but if I can alleviate abused children's pain and suffering along the way then I will," he finished. "Don't worry about my soul. Worry about theirs."

"Well, someone's got to worry about you," she said, straightening up.

He tilted his head, peeling himself away from the wall as he asked, "You've known me for less than twenty-four hours. You're a _doctor_. Why would you possibly care about me?"

"Why do you care about Harry and Dudley?"

"Because—"

"—someone's got to."

They hadn't realized how close they were standing until they saw the incredulous look of the nurse who opened the door.

"What?" Regulus asked. "Can't a doctor and a terrorist hole up in a broom cupboard without people getting suspicious?"

Dr. Thompson hit his arm and hissed as a jolt swept through her own.

"'Told you," Regulus said before noticing how grave the nurse looked. "Wait, that is absolutely not a look that a nurse should have. What's wrong? The boys!"

"They're fine," said the nurse. "Security called up to the front desk. They said that a man matching your description is here."

"Dumbledore," Regulus and Dr. Thompson whispered.

The latter turned to the former, who cried, "Don't worry, I have a plan!"

Several moments later, he Apparated into Petunia's bedroom, catching Dr. Thompson's waist as she threatened to collapse. "It's okay. It's all right. Nobody ever gets Apparition right their first try. At least you did a lot better than—"

"Dudley!" Petunia cried. "Where is he? What's going on?"

"Albus Dumbledore is in the hospital," Regulus said. "Don't worry, I have a plan. I came to tell you about it."

One hastiy explanation later, Petunia's face had turned as red as his fur. "You promise that my Dudley will be safe?"

"I promise that your Dudley will be safe," Regulus said. "Your nephew will as well, not that you care."

"You don't understand; I never _wanted _him."

"Yeah, no, I got that."

"Well, how would you feel if you opened up your front door to put out the milk bottles, and there's a baby on your doorstep!"

Regulus, who was heading towards the door, paused and said, "You mean figuratively?"

"Literally!" Petunia screeched. "There was an infant lying on my doorstep!"

"Lying in Dumbledore's arms?"

"Lying. On. The. Doorstep."

"_LYING ON THE DOORSTEP?"_

This was the exact scream that caused everyone in the St. Mungo's lobby to take cover. That and the electric charge that filled the air. Regulus stomped out of the elevator, staring down a man who could kill him in an instant. Bits of flame flew from his mouth, along with a feverish: "You left an infant lying on a doorstep? It was November!"

"You're alive."

"You're a wanker!"

Dumbledore reeled back in surprise, which was exactly what Regulus had wanted. He took a moment to study the man, something he hadn't been able to do when fleeing for their lives earlier. The past decade had not been kind to him. He looked older and more frail than ever before. Still, he spoke with the utmost authority:

"Everything that I have done has been for—"

"The Greater Good?"

"—Harry," Dumbledore said. "Surely, you understand, I only want what's best for him."

"You left him lying on a _goddamn doorstep!_"

"I left him at a house where he could be raised into the child he was meant to be," Dumbledore calmly said.

"They abused him, Albus," Regulus shot back. "They treated him like a slave. He slept in a tiny cupboard beneath the staircase!"

And Merlin help him, Dumbledore actually looked shocked, regretful, guilty.

For about three seconds.

He then cleared his face and said, "Sacrifices had to be done, my boy. I know that you will never forgive me but I don't live for the approval of a former Death Eater."

"Then why'd you hire Snape?"

"I live for the safety of the wizarding world," Dumbledore said. "Alas, as a Slytherin, you can never understand. It's not your fault, my boy. It is the way you are. You see the importance of protecting those who are closest to you. I see the importance of something far grander—"

"Far greater?" Regulus said. "Far more good?"

"I'm sorry, Regulus," Dumbledore said, truly sounding like he meant it. "What is done is done and what must be done must be done. What will be done _will _be done."

With that, he turned to the receptionist and gave her a dazzling smile. "Now, my dear, you were about to tell me the children's room number?"

"No!" Regulus screamed right as she intoned it.

He charged forward, seizing Dumbledore around the neck, just as the wizard Apparated. In the confusing haze of their bodies disassembling and putting themselves back together, Regulus managed to lurch backwards, causing them to tumble out of the room and into the corridor. He wasn't a cat for nothing, landing on his feet, throwing himself in front of the closing door. Dumbledore was up in a flash, his eyes no longer sparkling. "Perhaps I was wrong, earlier. Perhaps, you aren't a Slytherin, after all. You are much braver than I imagined."

"A lot of people are braver than you've imagined," Regulus snapped.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "I often wonder if the Sorting Hat has begun to fail us. Perhaps you were never meant to be in Slytherin, my boy. Perhaps, you were always meant to be a Gryffindor, like your brother. Imagine what he would do in your situation."

"Knowing him?" Regulus asked. "He'd probably kill someone. Namely, you."

"Would he?" Dumbledore stepped forward. "True Gryffindors know the meaning of sacrifice and love. They know that certain things are inevitable. They know that certain plans are ineffable. They know that they have a part to play in this greater plan. They know that their destinies are set in stone. They know when to stand aside and let fate be."

Regulus hesitated before asking, "If I let you into this room, do you promise to not hurt the boys?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Verbal confirmation, Bumblebee."

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, solemnly swear that I will not harm the children in your care, so long as you let me into the room."

Regulus begrudgingly stepped aside. Within seconds, Dumbledore transformed from a frail man to a tank, bursting into the room with a feverish speed, clearly hoping to reach something before Regulus could.

He was met with the sight of two bare beds, which had been neatly made, hospital corners and all. Dumbledore's eyes flickered back and forth. He could see several spilled Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans on the floor, along with a few Chocolate Frog wrappers and some crayons. Children had definitely been in this room.

They just hadn't stayed in the room.

Dumbledore slowly turned. Regulus leaned against the doorway, so much so that he was practically balancing between the wooden sides. A wand weaved in and out of his fingers, passing from thumb to pinkie. A smirk was planted firmly on Regulus' face. And why shouldn't he smirk? He had nothing to worry about. Dumbledore wouldn't hurt him so publicly and he had now sworn against hurting the boys. Not that he could hurt them, at the moment. After all, Regulus had safely taken them away from the room moments before entering Petunia's. All he had to join them at their new location.

His smirk ended up flattening his words:

"Don't knock the hat, mate; it knows what it's doing."

He tossed Harry's wand into the air, just to show Dumbledore that he wasn't afraid of temporarily abandoning his weapon. The Elder Wand made its first appearance, at last. It was too late. Regulus was the finest Seeker that Slytherin had acquired in over fifty years. Gravity had just started to lure the wand back down when he reached up and snatched it out of the air himself. All while keeping both eyes on Dumbledore. Eyes that sparkled as Regulus cried, "Bye!"

He was gone.

It took every bit of strength, from one and a half centuries of living, to keep Dumbledore from destroying the better part of London. He slowly turned around, walking back into the corridor, coming face-to-face with the spindly doctor who had wanted to help him. Keeping his voice as calm as possible, Dumbledore said, "They appear to have already left."

Dr. Orville's mouth fell open. He whirled around, as if the empty corridor could give him answers. Dumbledore was honestly willing to get his sources from anywhere, even if it meant the tiles on the ceiling or the water fountain in the wall. In the end, a more practical source of knowledge came around the corner.

"Emily!" Dr. Orville cried. "Dr. Thompson, that is. Listen and listen carefully: Lord Black has escaped with the children. Do you know where they went?"

Dr. Thompson stared at him for a frustratingly long time before asking, "What?"

"Do you know where Lord Black took the children!"

"What?"

"Tell me where—"

"What?" The doctor's mouth was twitching to the point where even Dumbledore couldn't hold back his scowl. Shifting her hair back to reveal her hearing aids, she gave them the most innocent expression she could muster. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you."

"It's quite all right, my dear," Dumbledore said, stepping forward. "I don't need you to listen to us. I just need you to look at us. Look at me. Look into my eyes."

He could feel the 'sparkles' rising up, capturing her gaze.

"W-what are you doing?" Dr. Thompson whispered, unable to turn away. She began to thrash on the spot, as if fighting an invisible force. "I won't let you get to the boys! I'll do anything to stop you. I won't stop fighting until I know they're safe."

"They're safe."

She was finally able to tear her gaze away, looking to her left, her view suddenly consisting of nothing but Regulus' grinning face. She was unable to hold back the smile that stretched across her own face. It was stuck there, even as he teased, "Miss me?"

"Yes!"

The grin briefly turned into a smirk.

"What are you doing here?" Dr. Thompson added. "The boys—"

"—insisted that I come back for you," Regulus said. "Truth be told, I didn't need much convincing. Orville might mock you for not listening but he's never listened to you, has he? Not like we three have. We listened to you every time you promised to help us. So, let us help you."

He turned to Dumbledore and added, "My brother is imprisoned, my cousins imprisoned, married, and disowned, my parents, aunts, and uncles dead. I am the last qualified member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, which means I, and I alone, have permission over our estates. You're never going to be able to access our estates without it. Not even Voldemort could enter without my cousin's permission. And I can assure you that you don't have my permission. That said, I assume that Harry is still welcome at Hogwarts? In that case—" He wrapped an arm around Dr. Thompson's waist. "-see you in September."

They were gone.

And as intelligent as he was, Dumbledore knew that he wouldn't have any direct contact with the newly-formed family for the rest of August. He could exhaust every resource he had available and he still wouldn't get close to discovering their locations.

He had been bested. Outmaneuvered. Outmatched.

By a true Slytherin.

An Honorary Marauder.

*** I know that Vernon 'gives' Harry a bedroom right before they flee the house but, honestly, it's much more dramatic if Harry just continued living in the cupboard right up until Regulus saved him. Especially since Vernon clearly only granted him the upgrade to please Dumbledore, and I really don't think my version of the bumblebee would care, to be honest.**

**Do you know who **_**does **_**care? Regulus Arcturus Black. I know that this chapter was massive but I wanted to get the entire hospital segment out of the way. I'd love to get your reviews on his transition from a cat to a man to a guardian all in the span of 24 hours.**

**Also, it's worth noting that Emily Thompson is one of the few characters who doesn't actually live in The Lilypad with Regulus, Harry, Dudley, and co. If she does, it won't be for books. She is a recurring character and I think it's pretty obvious who I ship her with, but I'm not having her become a permanent member of the family, just yet. She'll have her moment to do so, later on in the series. Everyone is going to join this family at some point or another. Including you all.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I am **_**BACK**_**. Well, technically, to misquote Lily, "I never left." If you follow me on tumblr, you'll know that I've been talking about this story everyday. Sadly, like the Marauders, four troublemakers got in my way: 1.) The whole Ph.D. thing. 2.) This whole pandemic thing that we currently seem to find ourselves in. 3.) Planning seven years of this story, which I've pretty much done. 4.) The fact that this chapter is **_**50+ pages**_**, reaching a novel-esque length! **

**I hope it will give you something to keep you busy as April ends while this quarantine doesn't. I also hope that you and your families are as safe as Regulus and **_**his **_**new family.**

**Chapter Three:**

"So, now what?"

The question had been asked by Dr. Thompson but it shone in the boys' faces. The four awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, not exactly knowing the trajectory of their journey.

"Let's just take a second," Regulus suggested.

Realizing that they were no longer in danger, that they _could _take a second, the other three looked around. Their jaws dropped as they realized that they were in a massive hotel suite. A gigantic white bed sat in front of a mirror that took up the entire wall. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling. A full parlor set was in the middle of the room and Harry realized that there was an adjacent room with two equally large beds, a desk, and a couch.

The boys spluttered and Dudley gasped, "Where are we?"

"The Plaza," Regulus said. "New York City. We're in the private suite of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. It can only be accessed by someone in my family, or by invitees. I stayed here, once, when my parents wanted to introduce me to diplomats in the MACUSA."

Neither Harry nor Dudley heard the last sentences. At the name of the city, they had raced over to the window. They now gasped as they gaped down at the thousands of twinkling lights. They could see a large vat of land that had to be Central Park. The neon signs bled into the mist from a recent rain, painting the sky red, blue, green, pink, and yellow.

Dr. Thompson was torn between staring at the sights in the city and staring at the sight in the room. Regulus had begun to pace, looking around, as if he couldn't quite figure out what was going on. This would have been alarming for the trio, who were completely dependent on this man, but the three were too swept up by the grandeur of it all.

"This place is beautiful," Dr. Thompson said, doing a small twirl to get in every little intricacy of the hotel suite. Harry and Dudley were just as stunned, tripping over themselves in an attempt to explore. They didn't dare go very far, despite the luring temptation to look at the other rooms. They were still shaky from the whole hospital escape and didn't want to be more than a little bit away from Regulus. Their new guardian took a moment to glance at Dr. Thompson, evidently hearing her statement about beauty.

Regulus then turned, brows furrowed, and said, "Too beautiful."

"I think you messed that up a bit," Harry spoke up.

"Yeah, I've seen this in movies," Dudley offered. "She says 'beautiful' and you stare at her with a stupid look on your face and say, 'Yeah' and you sound like you're agreeing with her but you're really talking about her."

"No, no." At first, Regulus was distracted. Then, fully processing Dudley's statement, he turned to the boy and sharply said, "_No_." He then became distracted again. "No, this place is too beautiful. It's too clean."

Dr. Thompson, smoothly acting as though her face wasn't the sole heating element in the room, said, "Well, I suspect a five-star place like this would have attentive cleaners. I'm sorry, is that hot-tub made of marble?"

"Probably," Regulus said, still distracted, still looking around. "The thing is, we might be in The Plaza, but nobody in The Plaza knows that. It's magically hidden. You and Dudley are the first Muggles to ever set foot in this place."

Dr. Thompson and Dudley exchanged glances, both amazed at the concept and at the fact that Regulus didn't seem to think the concept was a big deal. Then again, he was still focused on other matters.

Spinning on his heel, he got to the point: "The hotel doesn't clean this place. Our house-elves would clean this place."

"What?" Harry, Dudley, and Dr. Thompson chorused.

"The thing is, by the time I was cursed, I only had one house-elf," Regulus went on. "My mother had killed the rest."

"What?" Harry, Dudley, and Dr. Thompson chorused again.

"But it's been over a decade," Regulus practically whispered. "There's—there's no way that Kreacher—"

And suddenly, the three Muggle-raised guests found themselves staring at, well, a creature. Harry thought he looked rather nice, like an old hobgoblin from the poster in his primary school library—the one that encouraged children to read fantasy books. Dudley thought he looked ugly, like a pile of potatoes that had somehow sprouted bat-ears. Dr. Thompson thought that the two didn't need to look at him, at all, nor did he need to look at them. She protectively stepped in front of the duo, just in case.

Regulus didn't notice the gesture at first. He was a bit preoccupied. Harry and Dudley still had the misguided hope that their new guardian was a fully mature adult, capable of doing adult-things. But Regulus was only thirty. Granted, he had still lived 33% longer of a life than James or Lily, but he was still nowhere close to being a "fully mature adult", if such a thing existed. There was a childish spark in him that had been in Sirius. His brother had managed to turn that spark into a frenzy of fireworks, and though Regulus couldn't ever reach that level of euphoria, he still shone like a sparkler as he shrieked, "Kreacher!"

"Master Regulus!"

Regulus ran forward and picked the house-elf right up off of the ground, twirling him around, all while laughing with delight. "I can't believe you're still alive!"

"I can't believe _you're_ still alive, Master Regulus!"

"Yeah, long story." He put the elf down and gestured. "This is my friend, Dr. Emily Thompson, who is protectively standing in front of—" He paused, his smile turning tender. "It's all right. Boys, you can come on out. Kreacher won't hurt you. He's a house-elf. He's, well, I guess he was sort of my family's slave? Oh, wow, that sounded wrong. Well, it was wrong. Anyway, my family used to mistreat him and there was this whole thing with Voldemort and he ended up facing the consequences, so I did everything within my power to avenge him and protect him, and why are you three staring at me like that?"

They weren't just staring, they were gaping.

"Well," said Dudley at last. "That explains why you really like Harry."

Regulus gave them a sardonic smile. "I like Harry because Harry is very likeable." He turned back to the house-elf. "Blimey, Kreacher, have you been cleaning this, all along?"

"Of course," Kreacher said with pride. "I clean all of the houses of the House. The only one Kreacher avoids is The Bachelor Pad. Mistress Walburga didn't want me to clean that one."

"Yeah, Mother hated The Bachelor Pad," Regulus agreed. "I can't believe you cleaned all of this for years! Well done, Kreacher, truly!"

As the house-elf swelled with pride, Harry spotted something on the far wall. "Did you use those brooms to clean, Kreacher?"

"Oh, no," Regulus chuckled. "Those brooms aren't for cleaning. They're for riding."

Once again, his three guests chorused, "What?"

"Wizards can ride brooms?" Harry gasped.

"Witches can also ride brooms," Regulus said with a smile. "Any wixen can. You _have_."

"I—" Harry shook his head. "No, I swear, I've never ridden one."

"And I swear you have," he said. "Your godfather and I bought it for your first birthday. It only went a little off the ground but you were a natural."

Dudley ran forward and seized one of the broomsticks. "Here, see if you can still ride it!"

Harry reached out, in a natural attempt to grab it, but the broom zoomed into his hand before Dudley could reach him. The boys and Dr. Thompson gasped.

"Yep," Regulus proudly said, lifting his own hand to summon a broom. "I told you, you were a natural."

"Ride it!" Dudley prompted. "Ride it, ride it, ride it!"

"I don't know how!"

"Yes, you do," Regulus urged. "One never forgets how to ride a broom. Watch me."

He swung his leg over his broomstick and adjusted his body accordingly. Harry mimicked his exact movements. Regulus shot towards the ceiling and the gulping child jumped, soaring several feet into the air. The sensation was wonderful and admittedly familiar! He had the vaguest memories of giggling as he collided with a table.

"You remember, don't you?" Regulus asked with a smile.

"Did I break a vase?"

"You absolutely broke a vase and it was hilarious!"

A beaming Harry leaned forward and flew around his cousin. Dudley was leaping up and down, cheering his head off. Dr. Thompson pressed up against the far well, gaping at the sight. Just when she was beginning to think that she could blend in with the wallpaper, Regulus flew over and landed in front of her. She met his grin with a blank look. "What?"

"Hop on!"

"_What_?"

"Hop on!"

"C-can non-magical people fly on broomsticks?"

"Not alone," Regulus admitted. "Luckily, you're not alone."

This prompted a smile from the doctor, who threw her leg over the broomstick. As they floated upwards, she found herself wrapping her arms around Regulus' waist. Neither of them seemed to mind this arrangement.

"I want to fly!" Dudley demanded. Seeing Regulus' disapproving frown, the child actually paused before saying. "Erm, I want to fly, please?"

That seemed good enough for Harry. He crashed into the floor, staggered to his feet, and remounted the broomstick. "Hop on!"

Still holding Harry's wand, Regulus whispered the feather-light charm. Dudley was all-smiles as Harry effortlessly lifted them both up. The four laughed and whooped as they flew around the room

It was Dudley who asked, "Can we go outside?"

"No!" Dr. Thompson protested. "Absolutely not! You'll get yourselves killed!" Seeing the disappointment on the children's faces had her melting. They certainly needed some cheering up after everything they had gone through. Glancing at Regulus, she tentatively asked, "Unless there's a way to magically keep them safe?"

Regulus cracked the knuckles of his wand-hand and went to work. Within minutes, both Harry and Dudley had a feather-light charm to keep them from plummeting to the ground, should their broom no longer be beneath them. They also had on multiple cushioning charms, just in case, and the four were placed under heavy Disillusionment charms.

That Kreacher stepped forward and vowed to snap them back into this room, should anything go wrong, was enough to convince the doctor.

"As for me, I've spent years flying on broomsticks," Regulus said. "I played Quidditch at Hogwarts; that's a sport that involves flying around. As Kreacher said, he can snap us back into the room, if anything goes wrong. So, you'll be safe."

It took Dr. Thompson a moment to realize that he was addressing _her_, verbally ensuring her wellbeing. She didn't have the words to convey what she was feeling, settling with a nod. A snap from Kreacher had the large window disappear, allowing them to glide out into the night.

Dudley _did _scream but it soon became a cheer of delight. Harry beamed. They were dozens of stories high and he had never felt safer. It helped that Regulus was hovering near them, a peaky but smiling Dr. Thompson crushing his waist.

And so they flew, above the gorgeous, light-filled city. The sights were more beautiful than anything Harry had ever seen. Even Dudley was beaming at the wonder of it all. It wasn't long before he was urging Harry to go faster. Getting a nod from Regulus and Dr. Thompson, Harry felt brave enough to try.

It only took a few minutes before they were comfortably speeding along, weaving through skyscrapers, Regulus even managed to do a loop. He then paused, worriedly glancing back at Dr. Thompson, only to find that she was smiling...and that her smiling face was very close...

It was actually _their _broom that crashed into the Brooklyn Bridge, causing them to suddenly appear back in the hotel room. Harry and Dudley giggled as the four landed on the couch.

"I'm sorry!" Regulus cried. "I'm so sorry! Dr. Thompson, are you okay?"

To his immense relief, she was roaring with laughter, her hands flying as she said, "It's okay! That was so much fun! I loved the view."

"Yeah, so did I," Regulus said, not tearing his gaze away.

"Hey, he didn't mess it up," Harry whispered to a grinning Dudley.

No, Regulus hadn't messed it up. What's more, he was about to do something right. Unbeknownst to Dr. Thompson, she had been so excited that she had started to sign along. When she realized that Regulus was staring at her hands, she dropped her arms—

—only for him to raise his.

'Me.' 'Happy.' 'You.' 'Funny.'

"Wait, is that right?" Regulus asked. "Blimey, it's been years."

Dr. Thompson pulled her jaw back up and said, "I-it's close. I—you know BSL?"

"Yeah, it was how we talked to the mermaids outside our common room."

And once again, the three found themselves asking, "What?"

"Well, we couldn't understand Mermish," Regulus said with a shrug. "At the time, Harry's mother was friends with another friend of mine. She told him about BSL and gave him a book to study. He let me borrow it and we were able to finally talk to the mermaids. We had some interesting conversations. Most of which were about fish."

"Why were there mermaids outside your common room?" Dudley demanded.

"Oh, the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons of Hogwarts," Regulus said. "We were technically underneath the lake, so the windows let us see everything."

"Wow," Harry said. "That must be great if you're a fan of water."

"Yeah," Regulus said, his face falling. "I was, at one point. Things change."

"You don't have to tell us," Dudley quipped.

He chuckled. "No, no, you're used to changes, eh?"

As the weight of the past few days settled down onto the boys, Dr. Thompson took charge. She hurried over to the kitchenette with Kreacher more than happy to help her make several strong mugs of tea. Handing them over, she said, "Is there a way we could order food?"

"You mean, order Kreacher to make food?" Regulus asked.

"No, can we have food delivered?"

"Delivered by Kreacher?"

"Well, that's not exactly what I—"

The house-elf piped up: "Kreacher will happily deliver it!"

"Well, okay," Dr. Thompson uncertainly said. "What should we eat?"

"Pizza!" Dudley crowed.

Harry's eyes widened at the thought; he had only eaten the small squares of cold pizza at school, but it had still been delicious.

"Please tell me you know what pizza is?" Dudley asked Regulus.

"Yes, I know what pizza is," he said with a smile. "Harry's grandparents ordered it for us, before. His mother was quite fond of it, as well. If Kreacher can find a way to get some—and there it is."

A giant box of fresh, hot, pizza was sitting on the table, along with cups, cutlery, and a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Okay," Dr. Thompson faintly said. "All right."

It was time for Regulus to take charge, leading her to the second couch, where the two sat down. "I know, it's got to be a lot to take in."

"It's—it's something," she agreed.

"It's delicious," Dudley cried, already chomping down on a piece.

Gathering herself, Dr. Thompson monitored the child to ensure that he didn't eat too much. She subsequently found herself monitoring Harry to make sure he ate at all. He slowly did, nibbling on the slice of pizza, a smile spreading across his face. The smile turned into giggles as Regulus' cheese slid off his slice, adding to the stain that Dudley had created before.

"White definitely isn't my color," Regulus decided.

"Well, your name _is _Black," Dudley joked.

"Yes, my name is Black," Regulus said, the tone shifting as they realized that it was time for a weighty discussion. "I was once a Lord but I don't honestly know if I can call myself that, anymore. My wand disappeared the night of—well—a very bad night. Your wand usually signifies that you can _legally _wield magic. Either way, I'm still the Heir of the family. As far as I know, I'm the only one."

"What happened to your brother?" Harry curiously asked.

The tone grew even more solemn as Regulus said, "He was imprisoned. Even before that, though, he technically got himself exiled from the family."

To his surprise, Dr. Thompson reached over and squeezed his hand.

"So, it's down to me," Regulus said. "I'm the one who can access the properties. I can find a good house to stay in. Do you two still want to stay with me?"

"Yes!"

"Definitely!"

He smiled at that, the weights shifting slightly.

"Well, that's good, because I want you to stay with me, too," he said. "Tomorrow, we'll go to Gringotts—"

"That's the magical bank," Harry told Dudley and Dr. Thompson.

"—and we'll have a look at the properties and fortunes that come with being the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

He was trying to be humble but he had never learned how and they were sitting in a giant suite atop The Plaza. It didn't work.

"Right, that's tomorrow," Dr. Thompson said. "And tonight?"

"Well, I suppose I have to take you home," Regulus said. "We've kidnapped you long enough."

The three laughed.

"I'll stop by the hospital to visit Petunia," he added, earning a smile from Dudley. "Then, I'll stop by Privet Drive to visit Vernon."

The boys exchanged nervous looks.

"I won't do anything," Regulus said. "Well, I will, but not in the punching sense. Sooner or later, he's going to wonder why Dudley isn't home."

Everybody realized that he had only said Dudley's name. Nobody corrected him.

"I don't know what we're going to do, long-term," Regulus went on. "For right now, I'll use Harry's wand to modify his memory. He'll think that Dudley's at summer camp and that Petunia is visiting her friend, Yvonne. He gets to have the house all to himself. How lucky."

He wasn't able to keep the bitterness out of the last few sentences, causing Dr. Thompson to ask, "Maybe I should go with you?"

"You can, if you want," Regulus conceded. "Before we go, though, I want to go over the things I'm going to do to keep you safe, since you inexplicably insist on being caught up in this chaos. When I stop at the hospital, I'll modify Orville's memory. I can't do anything about him being an absolute bastard to you, but he won't know that you refused to help him and Dumbledore. I mean, I _could _stop him from being an absolute bastard but—"

"No," Harry, Dudley, and Dr. Thompson said.

"Right, no punching, got it." Regulus sighed and said, "Although, again, I know how to kill people with this stick. I wouldn't need to punch. I'm joking. I'm _joking_."

The boys knew, which is why they earnestly nodded when Dr. Thompson asked, "Are you sure you two want this?"

"I'll keep them safe," Regulus promised. "I'll keep _you _safe." He snapped his fingers and a small black disk appeared in his hands. "As soon as we're at our new property, tomorrow, I'll link the magical signature of the house with this. Put simply, press the center and you'll automatically be transported to the front gates. I'll give you access to the wards—those are magical shields that are put up to make sure no unwanted visitors enter. You would most definitely be a wanted visitor."

"Yeah, you would," Dudley said as Harry nodded.

She smiled and gingerly took the disk, slipping it into the pocket of her scrubs. She then addressed Regulus: "And what if I'm not in mortal danger but I still want to talk to you?"

Oblivious to her tone, he genuinely explained: "Well, there are plenty of ways to communicate in the wizarding world. Owls send letters. Those usually take a few hours, at minimum. A much quicker way is Floo Powder. Do you have a fireplace? I mean, we're British, so of course you have a fireplace. All I need to do is throw some powder across the hearth, kneel down, stick my head into the flames, and I can talk to you."

The other three stared at him, as if any part of that was _possibly _weird.

"Or, and hear me out," Dr. Thompson said. "In the event that you don't want to set yourself on fire just to talk to me—"

"Oh, I really wouldn't mind."

"—what if I just give you my phone number?"

She pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from her pocket.

"Oh." Regulus blinked as she wrote down a code. "Right. Of course. A phone number."

Dudley, who was enjoying this whole conversation, had begun to snicker. Harry, who was enjoying this whole conversation, was trying to fight a grin. Dr. Thompson, who was enjoying this whole conversation for an entirely different reason, giggled and asked, "You don't know what a telephone is, do you?"

"Not at all, no."

Helping out the man who had helped him, Dudley took the scrap of paper and assuredly said, "I'll have him buy one."

She nodded and said, "Boys, feel free to use that number at any time, if you need to talk to me."

Harry and Dudley could hear her message loud and clear: she would help and protect them, even from Regulus, if it ever came down to that.

Also hearing the message, Regulus wryly said, "Will you stop being so suspicious?"

"You're the one that held me at wand-point, last night."

"Blimey, I did, didn't I?" Regulus chuckled. "I had nearly forgotten and it was only last night. It doesn't feel like last night. Well, if it's any consolation, I trust you."

"We trust you, too," Harry said as Dudley nodded.

"And I trust you," Dr. Thompson said. "All of you."

"Glad to hear it," Regulus said before holding out his hand. "Now, come with me, so that I can modify several people's memories to make them think what I want them to think."

Harry and Dudley laughed.

"Kreacher—?"

The house-elf answered the unspoken question: "Kreacher will be happy to look after Young Masters Harry and Dudley."

With that assurance, and hugs given all around, the two Apparated away.

Dr. Thompson stumbled but caught herself on the sign for Privet Drive. The two walked towards Number 4, with the doctor sardonically saying, "It's got to be the one with the perfect garden out front."

"Is a telephone dangerous?" Regulus abruptly asked.

"Dangerous?" Dr. Thompson laughed. "You're an ex-terrorist who grew up in an abusive household and fought in a war, and in the past twenty-four hours, you've taken it upon yourself to remove two children from another abusive household and adopt them, and you're worried that a telephone is going to hurt you?"

"Not at all," Regulus said. "I'd call you no matter what. I just didn't know if it's something I had to prevent Harry and Dudley from using."

"They'll be fine," she said. "Dudley will explain everything. What was that first bit?"

"I mean, I was willing to stick my head in fire to talk to you, so—"

She smiled before saying, "Well, if I really want to talk to you, I can press this, right?"

"Right," Regulus said.

Getting an idea, he used Harry's wand to create a small chain. A hole appeared at the top of the disk and the chain linked through, creating a necklace. He took it and stepped around, clasping it behind her neck, only seeming to realize what he was doing when a great deal of heat radiated from that neck.

She turned and Regulus' cheeks also became heated. "Press that and you can visit us. Even if you're not in danger, please, feel free to visit. Of course, if you are in danger, please, feel free to visit. I'll keep you safe. I promise, I'll keep you—"

His ear twitched and a bullet whizzed past it, striking the metal sign behind them.

Dr. Thompson screamed and Regulus leapt in front of her, using Harry's wand to shield them from several more bullets. A purple-faced Vernon Dursley had appeared in the doorway. It seemed that, despite the memory charms Regulus had already placed on him the night prior, Vernon had some sort of subconscious hatred towards him.

"You get that stick—that nonsense—that _freakish _thing out of this neighborhood, you hear?" Vernon bellowed. "I don't know what you're playing at but I won't have it around my house or around my Dudley!"

Another bullet struck the shield as Regulus calmly asked, "Dr. Thompson, permission to punch him?"

Her lips were pressed together with fear, so she resorted to nodding.

Quick as a flash, Regulus had Apparated to stand in front of the man. His defensive charge and he put every bit of that power into punching Vernon Dursley. The man went back through the door, his legs sticking out of the splintery hole.

"That felt good," Regulus said as Dr. Thompson joined him.

She pulled him away and the two shakily sat on the curbside, holding onto one another, seeking comfort from each other.

"Well," Regulus finally said. "That changes things a bit."

She nodded, unashamed when her eyes began to flood with tears.

He rubbed her back while taking in his surroundings. Nosy neighbors had already emerged from their houses and a siren-blaring police cruiser raced down the road.

Straightening up, Dr. Thompson raised her hands. Beneath the light of the streetlamp, Regulus could see her sign: 'Transform.' 'Cat.'

Regulus was about to object before remembering the last Muggle who had given him the same command. It had been right upstairs. It had been mere _hours _ago. This confusing thought was the last one he experienced as a human. Crookshanks was soon pressed up against Dr. Thompson's side, mewing as the constables marched over.

"What's going on, love?"

She stood up and shakily said, "That man, Vernon Dursley, was shooting at this cat. Crookshanks belongs to the child who lives here. His mother, Petunia, is a friend of mine. She's staying with our other friend, Yvonne. Their son, Dudley, will be at camp for the rest of the summer. I came around to see how Vernon was getting along. Apparently, not that well."

Crookshanks let out a hiss.

The constables looked at the massive man, who was lying by the cracked door.

"And, erm, how did he end up that way?"

"Oh, I—I punched him."

Crookshanks let out another hiss.

Heads swiveled back and forth from the massive man to the nervous woman.

"You punched him?"

"Well, I love cats, you see."

That was as far as she got before Privet Drive did the rest. The gossipping neighborhood couldn't resist adding their spins to the story:

"That's right, I watched her punch him, myself!"

"I daresay the bastard deserved it."

"He's always yelling at his wife and son."

"We can hear him all the way down the road."

"No wonder they got out."

"Friend and camp, indeed."

"Aye, 'wouldn't be surprised if they never came back."

"Good on 'em."

"Though, I have to say, I'll miss her gardening."

"Yes, these are some prize-winning flowerbeds."

"Eh, they're all right."

They continued to shout claims of abuse, vulgarity, obscenity, and mediocre gardening, until the charges grew higher than the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts. It would take the constables months to sort through everything, months that Vernon Dursley would spend in a cell, for the wellbeing of the clearly impassioned community.

By the time they finished writing everything down, they realized that the woman and the cat were no longer among the crowd. Rather, they were several streets over. Well, the woman was several streets over, clinging onto a man, as they both roared with laughter.

"'You punched him?' 'Well, I love cats, you see.'" Regulus mimicked.

This set them off, again, until their stomachs ached from the much-needed laughter.

"I do love cats," Dr. Thompson finally said.

"Well, luckily for you, I'm a cat person."

They stared at one another before she cried, "That has to be, without a doubt, the _worst _joke I've ever heard!"

"Well, then, you clearly didn't grow up with my brother." Regulus' grin faded as he glanced back in the direction of Privet Drive. "Speaking of family—"

"If you could call Vernon that," Dr. Thompson said. "At least you won't have to worry about him for the next few months. You can have Dudley."

"For now," Regulus agreed.

Sensing the underlying message, she said, "Why don't I come to GOSH with you, too? I can make sure Petunia doesn't go back on her deal."

"And if she does, you could always punch her!"

"I'm not punching a patient!"

"Not even for your love of cats?"

They were still giggling as their feet touched the hospital floor, Regulus taking far too much time to ensure that Emily could stand on her own two feet. He finger-gunned at the shocked nurses, his smile fading when he heard a loud squeal:

"Lord Black!"

Dr. Orville was practically tripping over himself as he raced down the corridor.

"Right then," Dr. Thompson brightly said. "I'll just go check on Petunia, shall I?"

"No, no, don't you dare, okay, bye."

Regulus watched as the smirking doctor entered the room. He groaned, slipping Harry's wand from his sleeve to his hand, turning to face Dr. Orville. Regulus had lived in a dungeon covered with the symbol of a snake, and he still didn't think he had seen anything more slippery than the doctor's smile. "What are you doing back here?"

"Oh, you know, I just came back to say _Confundus_."

Dr. Orville's eyes glazed over.

"Right," Regulus said. "I also came to say a few other things: You can't remember anyone by the name of Albus Dumbledore, and if you were to ever meet him in the future, you would assuredly think that he was an untrustworthy bloke who ought to be ignored and, if possible, thwarted."

The doctor's head bobbed up and down, bits of spittle appearing on his chin.

"The patients, Harry Potter and Dudley Evans, were released with no indications that you need to follow up on their behalf. Dudley's mother, Petunia, will continue to stay here, until she is stable enough to transfer to a private clinic down in Plymouth. You had already agreed to this, I'm just reminding you."

More nodding. More spittle.

"Dr. Thompson was extremely helpful these past few days and is a remarkable asset to the team," Regulus finished, ending the spell and backing away. "You all right, there, doctor?"

"Oh, yes, yes," Dr. Orville said, clutching his head. "I was just thinking about Emily's remarkable assets." Regulus nodded and stepped past him, heading towards Petunia's room. He nearly made it, when the slimy man added, "Of course, I've always admired Emily's assets."

Regulus stopped just as suddenly as if someone had stuck Spellotape to the ground. He slowly pried his feet away from the surface and turned. "You're really going to blurt that out with no regard to any consequences?"

Dr. Orville did look a bit ashamed, but he couldn't resist saying, "Well, it's not like Emily would hear me."

In the end, Regulus wasn't sure if he had unintentionally Apparated or if his fury had enhanced his speed. Either way, within the blink of an eye, he had Dr. Orville pinned to the wall, Harry's wand pressing into his jugular.

"So you're a Squib, eh? Did you learn enough about the wizarding world to recognize the name 'inferus'? Yeah? Yeah, you know what inferi are? Do you know what it's like to have dozens of claws digging into you as the horrid, demonic, creatures pull you back into the water, until you can barely breathe, until their decaying hands are dragging you into the pits of hell? Because, if you ever wanted to find out, I can take you to a lake. It's in a cave. On a cliffside. Very scenic. Would be a brilliant spot for a vacation. Shall we go there, now? No? Mm, good answer. See, I only know two people who are strong enough to pull a body out of an Inferi-infested lake. One of them was killed by the same man who controlled the Inferi. The other is currently sitting in the most secure prison in the world. So, if you happened to fall into the lake, they wouldn't be around to help you. I would be there of course, but rest assured, that even if you screamed for help, I wouldn't be able to hear you."

Dr. Orville ended up crumpling to the ground. Regulus let go, slipping the wand back into his sleeve, uttering a surprised, "Hm." He followed this up with a small shrug before entering Petunia's room, addressing the open-mouthed woman: "Anyway, Petunia, I just stopped by to say that your son is completely safe with me, and you have no reason to worry."

A thoroughly flushing Dr. Thompson added, "As I've just said, Regulus Black is a thoroughly stable man. Have a good evening, Ms. Evans."

She ran forward and grabbed Regulus' sleeve, pulling him into the corridor. "Right then, Apparate us away, before people start screaming."

"I don't know where you live."

"7 Canis Drive, Barking."

"I don't know what those words mean!" Regulus' brief moment of panic subsided as he said, "But I know someone who would. Kreacher!"

The house-elf appeared, standing on the collapsed body of Dr. Orville. "Master Regulus has called me? Kreacher can be assisting Master Regulus?"

"Kreacher can absolutely be assisting Master Regulus if Kreacher so intends," he said. "But first, how are the boys?"

"Young Master Dudley is sound asleep and Young Master Harry is pretending to sleep."

"Sounds about right," Regulus said. "Kreacher, I need a favor. Can you take us to the address: 7 Canis Drive, Barking?"

He blinked and found himself staring at a beautiful brick terraced house. The garden was overgrown, but in a loving way. The flickering light from the streetlamp shrouded the home in an orange glow. It was as if the building was screaming an invitation at him.

"Brilliant," Regulus whispered before adding, "I mean, brilliant, Kreacher. Well done. Please, can you return to the boys, to ensure their safety? Can you then return here in a few minutes, to take me back to The Plaza? I'm assuming you have the magic to know the best timing of when to do so?"

"Of course, Master Regulus, anything for you!"

He popped away, giving Regulus the opportunity to turn to the woman on his arm. Initially staring at the house, she realized that she was being watched, and returned the gaze.

"You're finally home," Regulus said.

"Yes, I can see that," Dr. Thompson agreed. "Tomorrow, you'll be able to say the same."

His smile ached as he realized that she was right. "Yeah, I will! Harry, Dudley, and I will finally have a home!"

"'Finally'," she repeated with a laugh. "You've known them for a day."

"Well, I've known you for a day, but—"

"But—?"

"It feels like I've known you for a lot longer," Regulus admitted. "I wish I had."

After a moment of silence, she took a side-step, once again reaching up to brush off his shirt. "You've got more fur."

"Good thing you love cats."

She hit his chest and yelped when an electric jolt went through her. Her immediate giggles made Regulus feel a lot better for laughing.

The hand returned to the shirt, though it ceased its cleaning.

"I—I heard."

"Hm?"

"I heard what Dr. Orville said," she admitted. "I heard what _you_ said."

"Of course, you did," Regulus agreed. "Hearing aids. They aid your hearing."

She laughed, again, a noise that would always aid _Regulus' _hearing. Still, the mere mention of her aids caused her to subconsciously shake her head, her curls falling to cover them, an action that she had clearly done all her life. An action that was undone by Regulus—tenderly, slowly, willing to pull back if need-be—tucking her hair behind her ears.

Not knowing what else to do with his hands, he resorted to leaving them there, cupping Dr. Thompson's face.

At that moment, they heard a pop and a question: "Master Regulus, is this the right time?"

"Not quite, mate."

"Kreacher will punish himself!"

"Please do not."

"Very well!"

Another pop served as the reality check to draw them both apart.

"Well," Regulus finally said. "Anyway, you're home."

"Thank you," Dr. Thompson whispered.

"Thank _you_," Regulus whispered back.

She headed for the door, resting her hand on the frame, eventually turning back. "Would you like to come inside?"

"There are many places in which I'd like to come," Regulus said. "Unfortunately, I would never leave, and there are two boys who need me."

It was a mortified doctor who threw her prescription pad at him. His defensive charge flared and the pad ended up flying back into her hands, causing them to both laugh.

Focusing on the second part of his statement, she smiled and said, "Yes, they need you. And you need them. You three will be a family."

"Yeah, we will be," Regulus said. "And I promise, they'll be safe."

"They had better be."

"They _will _be." He paused before coyly saying, "Then again, the more I traumatize them, the more I can see you!"

"Don't you _dare—" _She broke off laughing.

"I told you I'd do anything to see you, again!"

"You can't traumatize them!"

Heading down the garden, he called over his shoulder, "Whatever it takes, Dr. Thompson!"

"Emily."

He turned with a smile and a reply: "Regulus."

"Regulus...don't you _dare traumatize those boys, _do you hear me?"

"Yeah," Regulus said. "I hear you."

Popping up next to him, a happy Kreacher cried, "Ah, Kreacher understands, _this _is the right moment!"

"Yeah, it is!"

One second, Regulus was looking at the beautiful woman entering a beautiful house. The next, he was looking at Dudley and Harry, the former of whom was standing on multiple shards of glass, the latter of whom was cowering in a fetal position on The Plaza's exquisite carpet.

Both boys looked up at his arrival, and for a moment, they could only stare at one another.

Finally, Regulus asked, "Do you think whatever's going on here is traumatic enough to warrant a doctor's appointment?"

They laughed, despite their pain, and shook their heads.

"Right," he said. "Dudley, why are you currently standing on glass?"

Dudley's answer was as follows: "Did you kiss her?"

"No," Regulus said before turning to Harry. "Harry, why are you currently cowering in a fetal position?"

Harry's answer was as follows: "Did you _want _to kiss her?"

"Yes." He threw his hands into the air. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Unfortunately, he'd have to wait awhile to get the full story, for Harry smashed his grin into the carpet and Dudley openly roared with laughter. Regulus stood there for the entire duration, rubbing his brow, wondering if being roasted by two eleven-year-olds was traumatic enough to warrant a doctor's appointment.

The story was as follows:

**What The Bloody Hell Went On:**

Harry sat on the edge of his bed—he was in a _bed_—listening to Dudley's snores from across the room. Dudley was also in a bed. They were in _beds_. Kreacher had sent them to bed, after Regulus and Dr. Thompson had left. This bed, a _bed_, was even comfier than the one at the hospital but Harry couldn't sleep. Not yet.

"Dudley," he whispered. "Hey, Dudley."

Dudley groaned, his watery eyes fluttering before fully opening.

"Come on," Harry said, rising from the bed and creeping over to the door.

His cousin stared at him but decided that challenging wizards hadn't worked out well in the past forty-eight hours. Thus, he leapt up and followed the small boy into the main section of the suite.

"What're we doing?" Dudley mumbled. "Are we running away?"

"No." Harry was surprised. "What? Wait, you were willing to follow me?"

His pink skin became even pinker. "Well, I wasn't staying with a strange wizard alone."

"_I'm _a strange wizard."

Dudley stared at him for a minute and the boys abruptly began to giggle as the reality of the past few days caught up with them.

When they finished, Harry grabbed an armful of dishes and carried them over to the sink. Dudley was shocked. Harry gave him a pointed look, gesturing towards the leftovers. The other boy faltered before understanding. He closed the pizza box and carried it over to the miniature fridge.

"Too bad you don't know any shrinking spells," Dudley whispered. "D'you reckon they have those?"

"Probably," Harry said.

"Do you know any?"

"I just found out I was a wizard."

"Yeah but it's in your genes right?" asked the other boy with a very serious expression. "You made the glass at the zoo disappear and that was before you even knew what you were."

Harry paused as he realized that his cousin had a point.

"Try it!"

He concentrated before wiggling his fingers: "Shrinkitydinkity!"

Nothing happened.

"Worth a shot," Dudley said, not unkindly. "Hang on; I think I can get it to fit."

He somehow managed, though the box was considerably damaged and both boys doubted they could fit anything else in the refrigerator. Still, Dudley raced over and grabbed the pitcher of that strange juice.

He had just reached the fridge when the pitcher slipped, smashing against the floor, causing glass shards to spread in every which way.

"Here, let me help you!" Harry cried, racing forward.

"No, you'll hurt yourself!"

"But I can help!"

"No, I don't want you to get hurt!"

"But—"

"No!"

In a fit of panic and frustration, Dudley shoved Harry as hard as he could, sending him away from the glass and straight into a fetal position. Instincts had demanded no less of either of them.

**The end.**

The boys finished the story on the couch. By then, Regulus had magically cleaned the glass, had healed Dudley's feet, had talked Harry out of his defensive position, and had assured Kreacher that he had done nothing wrong.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dudley whispered. "I wasn't—I didn't mean to—"

"I know," Harry mumbled. "It's just—"

"This is going to take some getting used to," Regulus summarized, winning an award for the understatement of the decade.

The sound of twelve tolling bells prompted Regulus to add, "We can get used to it after we get some sleep, eh? For now, back to bed."

Harry was still in awe as he climbed up into the comfy surface. Fortunately, he wasn't caught up in his thoughts for long, as he quickly fell asleep. The last things he heard were Dudley's snores.

There was a beautiful master bedroom across the suite. A bedroom that Regulus didn't even enter. He hoisted himself up onto the windowsill, staring out at the city. He had to admit, it was beautiful, though he could never live where the stars didn't shine.

Soon, the starless void was filled with pinks and oranges. Only then did Regulus hop off of the windowsill and summon Kreacher, politely asking him if he could prepare breakfast.

Dudley woke up to the smell of pancakes and quickly woke Harry. The two raced back into the main room, in awe at the spread of food on the table.

Their surprise only grew when Regulus emerged from the bathroom, looking like a king. His ponytail somehow looked more regal than before, waves of ebony hair meeting at the nape of his neck, a few curls delicately falling into his face. He was wearing a brilliant pair of robes, made of an emerald velvet. Harry knew, just from looking, that they were more expensive than the Dursleys' entire house.

"Good morning," Regulus said, smiling at them.

"Good morning!"

"Hey!"

"Aren't those robes hot?" Harry asked.

"Immensely," Regulus said with a smile. "That's the price to pay for being an Heir. You'll find that out, someday. Today, though, we have a lot more important things to focus on; starting with these pancakes."

Dudley didn't need to be told twice. Harry did but Regulus was willing to do so. In fact, he told Harry multiple times, all while handing him a Nutrition Potion. Dudley warily watched his cousin drink it, expecting him to turn into a toad, or something. Instead, Harry smiled and said, "It tastes like bubblegum!"

"Will that help Harry grow?" Dudley wondered.

"It should," Regulus agreed. "Of course, he also has to _eat_."

Harry didn't eat. Instead, the boy poked at his stack of pancakes, watching the perfectly cut slab of butter run down the sides.

"Eat, Harry," Regulus coaxed. "The Nutrition Potion only works if you eat."

Dudley swallowed a mouthful of bacon before asking, "Doesn't that seem count-ro-per-ductive?"

"Counterproductive?" Regulus gently corrected. "It depends on how you look at it. Despite what many people think, magic cannot fix every aspect of life. The potion doesn't automatically give Harry a healthy body, per say. Instead, it acts as a powerful version of what you Muggles call 'vitamins'."

Dudley's head bobbed up and down as he processed this. Realizing what it all meant, he gave Harry's arm a gentle prod and said, "Regulus is right. You need to eat."

"Sorry," Harry said, his cheeks warm. "I was just thinking."

"You can think while you eat," his cousin said.

Harry poked his breakfast again before speaking in a smaller voice: "Regulus, can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"W-what were their names?"

Dudley dropped his fork and looked up at Harry in surprise. Regulus' brow furrowed and he asked, "Whose names?"

"My parents," Harry whispered. "W-what were their names?"

Several emotions crossed Regulus' face so abruptly that Harry nearly felt dizzy. There was shock, horror, slight anger, and a sadness so deep that it stayed in his eyes, even when the rest of his face became stoic. At last, he asked, "Nobody ever told you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, Harry." His goduncle sighed before saying, "Your father's name was James. James Fleamont Potter."

Dudley let out a snort. "Fleamont?"

His pink face became even pinker and he ducked his head, mumbling an apology. Harry threw him a half-grin and said, "It _is_ a silly name."

"Oh, believe me, James knew," Regulus said with a smile. "So did his friends. They would tease him about it often. So, would I, come to that."

Harry took a moment to relish in his father's name before asking, "And my mum?"

"Lily," said his goduncle. "Lily Lea Evans."

"Lee?" Dudley repeated. "As in 'Stan Lee'?"

"I don't know who that is," Regulus said, earning an aghast look from the boy. "Lea, L-E-A, as in Lea Evans. Lea was your grandmother."

Regulus was looking at both of them. Of course. She was the grandmother to them both, mother of Lily and Petunia, the one woman who connected the two cousins. This realization was nothing spectacular—simply a moment of clarity on how family trees worked—but it touched the boys nonetheless. Up until that point, there had been nothing really connecting them. Nothing but circumstance.

Harry stared at his lap and whispered, "Lily and James. James and Lily. Lily and James."

His eyes became wet.

Regulus reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "Eat your pancakes, Harry."

He was soon giving Dudley the exact opposite command. The boy flushed and mumbled, "This is hard."

"I know it is."

"It's just—Mummy and Daddy used to let me eat everything."

"Yeah, somehow, I gathered that."

Finally finishing a pancake, and feeling very proud of that, Harry asked, "Were you able to visit Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?"

"Or were you too busy trying to kiss Dr. Thompson?" Dudley teased.

"I wasn't trying to kiss her, I only wanted to kiss her." Regulus waited for their laughter to die down before saying, "Well, actually, about Vernon—"

ϟϟϟ

Vernon Dursley was _not _happy. Unfortunately, his solution to demonstrate how unhappy he was involved raging around his jail cell and screaming profanities at the guards. It didn't help. If anything, the officers continued adding to his list of charges. They knew that, eventually, they would have to track down his wife and child.

Hearing their names being whispered, Vernon bellowed, "You stay away from my family, you hear? You stay away from them!"

When it became obvious that no one was listening to them, Vernon fell into a deeper rage. It didn't help but sometimes all you could do was punch a wall.

ϟϟϟ

Dudley couldn't stop punching the wall. Just when Harry thought his cousin was getting tired, he started back up again. Harry clung onto the back of Regulus' robes, only peering out from behind the wizard to confirm that his cousin was, indeed, still punching the wall.

When that wall began to crack, Harry shivered.

Feeling the motion, Regulus said, "All right, Dudley, you're scaring Harry."

His words had an instant effect as Dudley stopped and apologized.

"Right then," Regulus cheerfully said. "Filling that weapon away for future use—"

"I'm sorry," Dudley repeated. "I'm so sorry."

"Eh, it's okay," Regulus said. "Out of all of the walls in this suite, that one _has _always been my least favorite."

Harry giggled as he scooched out from behind their new guardian.

Dudley didn't laugh at all, instead sinking down to his knees. "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry that my dad hurt you, Harry. I'm sorry that he tried to hurt _you_, Regulus. I'm—I'm so sorry."

"Dudley," Harry softly said, "you're not Vernon."

Noticing that the child had dropped the word 'uncle', Regulus agreed with him on all accounts.

"What does that matter?" Dudley asked.

"It matters," Regulus quietly said, crouching down. "Dudley, you're not Vernon Dursley, so you don't have to apologize for Vernon Dursley's actions."

"Oh." Dudley sniffed. "I still feel bad, though."

"That's good," Regulus offered. "It means you care."

"Which definitely means you're not Vernon," Harry muttered.

His cousin nodded before flushing. "Sorry about the wall."

Regulus shrugged. "I'm rich. I can afford to buy another wall."

ϟϟϟ

Regulus wasn't rich, Regulus was _loaded_.

This became apparent to the boys as they Apparated five hours into the future, the time zone the least of the oddities they faced. Dudley wisely kept his mouth shut, even as he peered at the goblins. Only Harry's sharp nudges drew his attention away. The boys walked with Regulus' arms steering them. Harry on the left. Dudley at his right.

They were taken into a room by a fancily-dressed goblin, Ragnok, who began to lead Regulus through the process of obtaining his wealth.

The inner-workings of Gringotts and the wizarding economy are intricate, extensive, and absolutely pointless to this story. As such, there's no need to go over the amount of scrolls that Regulus signed nor is it important to talk about every policy and procedure that the goblins uttered. What's important is that Regulus was able to legally access the Black fortune. He still wasn't an official Lord, and wouldn't be until he had recovered his wand. Yet, as the remaining Heir of the family, he could still access most of the fortune, along with the properties.

"Heir Apparent Potter and Young Mister Evans require the best home available," Ragnok agreed, handing Regulus a list of properties that the family owned.

Regulus barely glanced at it. "My uncle, Alphard Black, was removed from the family, but I believe his house was never officially exiled?"

"You wish to raise the children in The Bachelor Pad?"

"Isn't that the house your mother hated?" Harry asked.

Regulus grinned. "Yep, that's the one."

Ragnok was able to see to it that he had all of the necessary documents required to immediately move in. Regulus was also given the key to access a vault filled with enough gold to justify every purchase he would ever make. Purchases he intended to start immediately.

The goblins transferred a good chunk of money into a pouch, which, when attached to his belt, only added to the regalness of Regulus' appearance.

They were about to leave when he stopped, squeezing the boy's shoulders to get them to do the same. Several goblins were not-so-subtly staring at them as they whispered. There was also the fact that the door hadn't actually been opened, despite the fact that the trio were very much ready and willing to get out of the room.

At last, Ragnok stepped forward, "My apologies for keeping you, Heir Black, but we have some urgent matters to discuss with you regarding the health and safety of Heir Apparent Potter."

The boy in question exchanged fearful looks with his cousin.

"I see?" Regulus slowly said. "What sort of matters?"

"We keep a few of our healers out in the main atrium, to ensure that they can revive wizards who succumb to maladies when they realize how much interest they've acquired," said the goblin with a nasty grin. "One of those healers has just informed us that some unusual red sparks flared up when she was looking at your new ward."

Before he could stop himself, Regulus asked, "Healers? I thought you were a bank."

He instantly knew that he had said the wrong thing, protectively pulling the children back as the goblin frowned. "We are an entire species, Heir Black, just like Muggles and wixen. We have an entire medical system that could rival St. Mungo's."

Regulus had to think quickly. Every class he had ever had with Professor Binns had been spent drooling on his desk. Still, he was a Pureblood, he knew how to dance, and though his family would have less-than-ideal things to say about the banker before him, they would have said the same things about the boys in his arms. Regulus had already had to come to terms with the fact that he was looking after two high-risk targets because the need to care for them outweighed his family's prejudice. It was clear that he would soon have to extend this acceptance to other cultures. Lest he and his neck regret it.

"Forgive me, Senior Accountant Ragnok," Regulus said. "That was an unnecessary slight towards the goblins and I deeply apologize for it. Please, help Harry, in any way that you can."

"Well, hang on," said Dudley, who had been given a tail days before. "What exactly are you planning on doing to him?"

Harry was also nervous. "I'm not going to have to have an operation, am I?"

"Not at the moment," Ragnok said. "Our healer can diagnose you with the snap of her fingers. Then, we may escort you to the next room, where my assistant will be more than happy to show you a treasure chest filled with jewels that Captain Potter, a renowned pirate, acquired in 1720."

The boys' eyes lit up at this. True to Ragnok's word, the process was swift. The healer entered and snapped, a long piece of parchment appearing in front of the director. The only pain came from Regulus tightening his hands on the boys' shoulders.

Sensing the tension, Ragnok snapped his own fingers, causing a window to appear between the two rooms. His assistant had already popped over and was waiting with the treasure chest, in plain view, so that Regulus could keep an eye on things.

The boys were sensible enough to glance at their new guardian, before shooting off at the first sign of his nod. Within milliseconds, they were both in the next room, running their hands through the treasure chest.

Regulus watched them for a moment before saying, "I'm guessing that, if they need to leave the room, the news isn't good?"

Coming up to stand next to him, Ragnok said, "I'm going to assume you knew that the boy was malnourished and had injuries from his abuse."

Regulus nodded and said, "I had to take him from the hospital, last night, but I intend to research a list of potions and elixirs that can help him. I have already given him a Nutrition Potion."

"We noted; our apothecaries can provide the list to you, if you wish."

Biting the urge to question that they had apothecaries, Regulus instead said, "Yes, that would be very helpful, thank you."

"Now, as for the matter of the Mark on the child."

"What mark?" Regulus blinked. "Oh, do you mean the lightning bolt? No, that's a scar. It's what happens to humans when they get—"

He paused as something sharp pierced the very edge of his back.

"—hurt."

"Do not patronize us again, Heir Black," Ragnok warned, his warriors hissing behind the duo, one clearly holding a sword to Regulus' back, willing to drive it home. "We are well aware of what a _scar _is."

The only thing that kept Regulus from bending over, flushing with shame, was the fact that Harry and Dudley were occasionally glancing through the window. He kept on a large smile as he waved at them, speaking through clenched teeth:

"Senior Accountant Ragnok, I must once again apologize. I was raised by a family that did not value the complex culture of the goblins. The Hogwarts professor of my time taught us nothing of your world. Both of which led to, but do not excuse, my prejudice. I profusely apologize for my second remark and promise that it is the last."

After much deliberation, Ragnok held up his hand, and the blade was removed from Regulus' back. He knew that his robes would have a slight puncture wound. He could repair them in an instant. He never would.

Unable to hide his sigh of relief, he said, "Thank you for your mercy, Sir."

"It is hardly mercy," Ragnok said. "More opportunity. You were a Slytherin. We have things you need. You have things we need."

"What is it that you need?" Regulus asked, still keeping an eye on the boys.

"As you have said, Cuthbert Binns is a disgrace of a teacher," Ragnok said. "Even in life, he presented the goblin culture as mere pests, our legacies stated in tones that could put even the most bloodthirsty warrior to sleep within minutes. Should you return to Hogwarts in September, we ask that you either replace the History of Magic professor, bringing our culture to the spotlight. Either that or you find a better man than you."

"Wait, hang on," Regulus said. "How did you know I was thinking about going to Hogwarts?"

"Because those two boys are what _you _need," Ragnok sagely said. "You need a family to call your own. You need to look after them. I have no doubts that you will follow Mister Potter to Hogwarts to ensure that he's safe. If you do—"

"Right," Regulus said. "Get Binns out."

They watched the boys play for a moment longer before Ragnok abruptly snapped his fingers. Regulus tensed, only for the goblin to say, "You can still see the boys but they cannot see you. There is a chair behind you. One of our chefs has prepared a strong cup of tea."

"All of which is appreciated and confusing," Regulus said. Doing the math, he surmised, "You're going to tell me what you found on Harry's report? What is it? Does he have cancer? His aunt certainly does."

"No, it is far more serious than that."

"Well?" Regulus asked, turning to fully face the goblin. "What is it?"

"Tell me, Heir Black, what do you know of horcruxes?"

Ten minutes later, Harry and Dudley looked up as the door opened. Regulus cheerfully walked in, smelling strongly of peppermint tea. He was all smiles as he said, "Blimey, Harry, if the wizard thing doesn't work out for you, you could become a pirate."

"_We believe that part of Tom Riddle's soul splintered off during the backfire."_

Harry's grin wasn't nearly as wide as his new guardian's. "What if the wizard thing _doesn't _work out?"

"Then you can be a pirate, I just said!" The boys laughed and Regulus added, "Of course it will work out, Harry. You're going to be an amazing wizard. Then again, you can still be a pirate, if you want to be. You can be anything you want."

"_He can't be...he can't be a...a horcrux."_

Once again, he put his hands on the boys' shoulders. His left hand on Harry's, his right hand on Dudley's. He was extremely aware of the Dark Mark beneath his robes, just inches away from Dudley's right ear.

"_I tried to destroy one. I don't know what happened to it. The past few days have been so busy that I haven't been able to talk to Kreacher."_

Ragnok's assistant smiled as he put the chest away. Ragnok, himself, smiled as he showed Regulus and the children to the main atrium. Harry bowed and politely thanked them, nudging Dudley, who awkwardly did the same. Regulus smiled with pride.

"_We can't—we can't destroy him!"_

"_None of us have suggested that, Heir Black."_

"_But the only way to destroy a horcrux—"_

"_That was the solution ten years ago. We will have our researchers look into alternate options. I told you this information because I want you to be alert, in case there are any unforeseen side effects when you are raising Heir Apparent Potter. For now, however, I suggest that we let matters be."_

Regulus had pulled up his hood, pushing Harry's hair down over his scar. Any passersby merely smiled, not realizing the identities of the trio.

"_He's—he's part of Voldemort—"_

"_He is a child, Heir Black, and should still be treated as such."_

"_Right. Right. He's a child."_

"_He's a child and, though unofficially, he is _your _child."_

Regulus held onto both children, smiling down at them, before asking, "Well, what do you think? Should we visit our new house!"

Their cheers were unanimous and quite effective at chasing away any lingering horror or doubts that Regulus had. Pulling them close, he Apparated away, leaving Gringotts, the goblins, and the revelation behind him.

Before Harry and Dudley knew it, they were standing on a rolling hill, one of many, which divided a sandy beach from a quaint little city. Tall, soft, grass came up to the boys' waists, ebbing to and fro, much like the distant waves in the sea. They tried looking around but the grass was mischievous, tripping them when they turned too quickly, causing them to fall onto each other. Regulus chuckled and pulled them to their feet again.

"What's that city?" Harry curiously asked.

"Blackpool," Regulus said.

"Was it named after you?" Dudley wondered.

"Well, my family, yes," he said. "Though, when my ancestors named the land, they had no idea that a Muggle city would sprout up. I don't think they were too happy about it, to be honest, but I always thought it was a charming place. My uncle, Alphard, took us around, whenever we would visit. This was his house."

Regulus gestured towards the grassy hill. The boys looked at each other, confused.

Dudley, feeling rather foolish, asked, "He lived underground?"

"Huh?" Regulus abruptly gasped and said, "Oh, of course. What was the phrase? Hang on. Let me think. Yes! All right. Harry, Dudley, 'A river bleeds into a pool, circling round a starstruck lad, giving him the sanctuary, of The Bachelor Pad.'"

The boys' jaws fell as a house began to rise. More accurately, the house stayed in one position, but its reveal started with the foundation and rose up, until they could see the windows, the doors, the balconies, the chimneys, the intricate detail of the architecture, the sheer vastness of it all—

"This is a bachelor pad?" Dudley repeated.

"_The _Bachelor Pad," Regulus said.

"This is a bloody manor!" He turned on Regulus, as if accusing him of some great wrongdoing: "You and your family were bloody royalty!"

"Well, yeah," Regulus said. "What do you think Noble means?"

"Does it mean 'royalty'?"

"It means royalty, yes."

Regulus waved Harry's wand—he had refused to go to Ollivander's, in the hopes that he could one day find his old one—and two black disks appeared. The boys eagerly took them. Another wave of the wand and chains looped through the holes in the top. Regulus left them to put the necklaces on, producing one of his own.

"They work exactly like Emily's," he said. "Tap the center and you'll be transported to the front gates."

They did just that, giggling as they raced back over to a grinning Regulus.

"Hang on," Dudley cried. "Did you just call her 'Emily'?"

"The point is, we have a home!"

They had a home.

"It's beautiful," Harry whispered.

"It's enormous!" Dudley crowed. "It'll take us all day to explore this!"

"Well then," Regulus said with a snap of his fingers. "We'd best get started."

The doors flew open and the boys eagerly raced forward. Regulus followed them, climbing the steps, passing beneath a sign that hung on the porch roof:

The Bachelor Pad.

The porch creaked beneath his shoes, the vibrations causing the wooden swing to rock slightly. Regulus steadied it with one hand, looking around, ensuring that they were alone. Well, of course they were. One couldn't enter this house unless they were specifically invited by a member of the House of Black.

WIth a sharp nod, confirming this fact to himself, he turned and entered the house.

He found himself in a familiar grand foyer, though the mountains of dust were new. Harry and Dudley were laughing as they skidded across the floor, causing clouds of grey to rise up. The clouds turned gold as Regulus snapped his fingers, again, igniting the torches on the walls. The warm colors seeped into the room, causing the three to smile.

The foyer was nearly as large as the Dursleys' house, overlooked by a chandelier, which cost more than Vernon could ever make in a lifetime. Said lighting source seemed miles above the boys' heads, the ceiling held up by intricately decorated pillars. To the right, the double-doors already open, was an enormous kitchen. The boys' jaws dropped at the mere glimpse of it. To the left of the foyer, their first destination was a parlor that ran the length of the house, complete with multiple sets of antique furniture, ornate bookcases, an easel, and a piano. Dudley jumped onto the couch, bouncing up and down, along with thick clouds of dust. The two eventually mixed and the boy came back down, coughing.

"Uncle Alphard left this place, years ago," Regulus said. "I imagine this dust has been here, ever since. We'll have to get it cleaned up."

No sooner had he spoken than Kreacher popped up into the room. "Kreacher would be happy to clean for Master Regulus!"

"No, no, Kreacher, it's okay," Regulus said. "I don't want to impose."

The house-elf looked confused. "But Kreacher would be _happy _to do it."

"Well—" He hesitated. "All right, if you're sure."

He evidently was, for within a few blinks of their eyes, the room was spotless.

"Is Master Regulus liking the furniture?" Regulus pressed. "Kreacher can arrange to have furniture brought here from any other Black residence."

What followed was a strange couple of minutes, even by Regulus' standards, as the trio suggested different pieces of furniture and decor. Harry, who had done well in his art classes at school, could have sworn that Regulus owned original pieces of the most famous painters to have ever existed. Regulus was rather nonchalant about the fact that van Gogh's face was on the wall next to a poster of two people fighting in a roped-off ring. The latter had come from the Dursleys' house, once Dudley had realized that he could give Kreacher permission to access it and retrieve things. ("Sort of wish I had known that before I took you there yesterday," Regulus muttered. "Yeah, but that was fun," Dudley said with a grin.) Regulus' only comment on the wrestling poster was offering to magically add a frame and make it monochrome, thus somewhat blending into the rest of the room. Somewhat.

With comfortable, dust-free, furniture for them to sit on (or bounce on) and the piano and easel still remaining, with the addition of a gramophone that they managed to get working, the trio happily declared one room done.

"Right," Regulus cheerfully said. "That just leaves...several dozen others."

They went across the foyer and into the kitchen. The boys honestly couldn't think of much more to add. Dudley imagined the amount of food he could eat, while Harry imagined the amount of cooking he could do. It was one of the few tasks the child had actually enjoyed. He had learned how to master different meals at a young age, and could just envision the different cabinets and counters filled with every ingredient he needed. Dudley was more interested in the table that was pushed into the corner. That, along with the island, ensured that there would be plenty of places for the trio to sit during their meals.

It was Regulus who made several suggestions to Kreacher, who ended up changing the wood of the cabinets and the decor on the walls, until the kitchen resembled one in a rural farmhouse. A specific rural farmhouse. Regulus found himself getting choked up just looking at the resemblance, quickly ushering the boys onto the next tasks.

The kitchen led to a more formal dining room, though judging by the way Regulus' nose wrinkled, the boys doubted they'd be spending much time there. So it was back to the kitchen and into the foyer, where they could finally appreciate the marble staircase that rose up to meet a balcony. It was a grinning Dudley who ran to each side of the staircase, rapping his knuckles onto the marble. "Look, Harry, no cupboards."

It was a poor joke but Harry found himself grinning nonetheless. The grin faded as he looked up to Regulus. "Will I—will I really—?"

"Yeah," Regulus said. "You'll have your own bedroom. Both of you will. Come up here. As you can see, the balcony leads to the two different wings of the house. The east wing is usually reserved for guests, leaving the west wing for family."

It was to the west wing that he led them. To the side for family.

A long hallway stretched towards a door. There were three doors on either side, with Dudley pushing open the first door on the right. He grinned at the massive, empty, room and said, "Look at this, Harry!"

Harry was speechless, leaving Regulus to fill the silence: "Would you like this to be your bedroom, Harry?"

The boy hesitated before asking, "Which one will you be in?"

"The one at the very end of the hallway on the joining wall," Regulus said. "That's the master suite."

"Could I have the room next to that one?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Of course, you can."

"Then this can be my room," Dudley decided. "Come on, Harry, let's check out yours!"

Both rooms were identical, though the attached bathrooms were on opposite sides. With Kreacher once again offering to add an array of furniture, and even change the architecture, they were able to start filling their bedrooms. Regulus used Harry's wand to add the finishing touches, such as making Harry's blanket purple at his shy request, and adding sticking charms to the rest of Dudley's posters, which covered nearly every space of his walls. Regulus turned down the request to put a refrigerator in Dudley's bedroom, though he did eventually relent and put in a minifridge so that the boy could store his favorite drinks. Dudley even got him to make the cooler red and shiny, with the words 'Coca Cola' written across the side. Regulus didn't quite know what that was about but even Harry grinned at the decoration.

"Brilliant, now we just need to plug it in," Dudley said, before realizing that there were no outlets in the walls.

The boys exchanged glances, Dudley finally leaning in to loudly whisper, "Do they not have electricity here?"

"It doesn't look like it," Harry whispered back.

"Do you think he even knows what electricity is?"

"Yes, I know what electricity is," Regulus said, grinning when they silently demanded to know how he had heard them. "Cat hearing. Also, Dudley's whispers aren't whispers. Also, Harry's mother was a Muggle and his father's parents were ahead of their time. I know some things."

"You didn't know what a telephone was," Dudley pointed out.

"Yeah, well, like I said, I know _some _things."

"Well, if there's no electricity here, how will the cooler work?"

Even as Dudley asked, he opened the door and found that the inside was cool to the touch.

"Magic," Regulus said.

Dudley was impressed but concerned. "Well, I don't know if magic will make the telephone work. We'll probably have to find a way to wire the house."

"We can look into it," said the man who clearly didn't know what the child was saying. "In the meantime, has your room been sufficiently decorated?"

Dudley was about to shake his head when, spotting Harry, he nodded. "Yeah. Let's go back to Harry's room. The only thing we've added there was the bed."

Regulus was well-aware and proud of Dudley for also noticing.

Indeed, the only thing in Harry's bedroom was a bed with a purple blanket. That had been his only request and still was. A blanket. Not a duvet because duvets are _the spawn of the devil and very frustrating to wrestle with in the middle of the night_. A blanket. A purple one.

"I don't need anything else," he hastily said. "Really."

An internally-heartbroken Regulus said, "Well, how about a stand next to your bed? A bed-stand, as some people call it."

Harry finally conceded and Kreacher found one that suited the purple color.

Dudley, catching onto what Regulus was doing, added, "You have to be able to put your clothes somewhere. Hang on! Our clothes!"

"—will be purchased anew this evening," Regulus promised. "I trust you know some stores where we can get Muggle clothing?"

Harry shook his head but Dudley nodded.

"Brilliant, we can go there in just a bit," Regulus said with a forced smile. "For now, we have to deal with this room in the middle."

In a line of three rooms, all leading to the wall with Regulus' room, Dudley had taken the first, Harry had taken the third, which left the second empty.

"We could have it as a toy room," Dudley said before hastily adding, "For the both of us. You know, we could both have toys."

Harry, who was already clearly struggling to keep up with everything that was happening to him, could only nod in agreement.

"All right, it will be a shared toy room," Regulus said, hands on his hips. "Dudley, do you know the best store to get toys?"

Dudley snorted before realizing that Regulus genuinely didn't know. Neither did Harry.

"You're kidding," said the Muggle boy. "Hamleys, of course! Right in London. They've got loads of stuff. Floors of it."

"Floors?" Regulus repeated. "Just how many toys _are _there in the world?"

It turned out that all of the toys in the world, and then some, could fit into approximately seven floors of a building that most children only saw in their dreams.

Regulus and Harry gaped up at the building. The latter was pressed to Regulus' right side, having had an emotional couple of hours. It had taken both Regulus and Dudley to coax Harry into getting a handful of t-shirts, long-sleeved shirts, trousers, and undergarments. In fact, he had only really gotten the clothes because he knew that it would make them happy. They both seemed to know this and were both resigned to it.

That had been enough of an emotional rollercoaster but _this_ was on an entirely new level. Or, rather, seven levels. Dudley opened his arms as they stepped through the doors, as if he was the owner himself. Which, Harry realized, he might have been. He had certainly seen many of these strange objects in Dudley's rooms.

Harry actually grabbed onto Regulus' arm. He had no idea where to begin, though it seemed that every other child did. He supposed that every other child was used to a life where one could easily pick a toy. He wasn't. He wasn't used to so much fun, so much excitement, so much chaos.

"Err—Dudley," Regulus said. "This is all very interesting but maybe we shouldn't throw Harry into the water before he learns how to swim, eh?"

"I really can't swim," Harry commented.

Regulus blinked before muttering, "Good to know."

Dudley turned, his smile freezing as he spotted his cousin. "Oh." He hesitated, glanced at the nearest display of wonderful gadgets, and turned back to Harry. "Well, what's wrong? Is it the other kids? You never had a problem with other kids, before. Except my gang."

Regulus opened and closed his mouth.

"No," Harry said, feeling ridiculously small next to his cousin, and not just in physical size. "It's just—I don't know—I don't know what any of them are."

"Well, I'm pretty sure they're just children," Dudley said. "But, then, I suppose you turned out to be a wizard, so maybe they're superheroes or werewolves or something."

"No, not the children," Harry said. "The _toys_. I don't know—I never had—I don't know what they are."

"Oh!" Dudley thought about it before saying, "Well, I've played with most of these before." Harry hung his head, only for his cousin to say, "So, I'm probably the best person who could teach you. Unless Regulus knows about toys that I don't?"

"No, I'm just as lost as Harry," Regulus admitted. "Why are those turtles eating a pizza with that rat?"

"And why are they dressed as ninjas?" Harry wondered.

"Blimey, I have so much to teach you," Dudley cried, grabbing his cousin's hand. "Come on! Let me know if you really need to stop. Otherwise, keep up, and listen, because you're about to get the best tour of your life! All right, so this is TMNT, which is a cartoon. I mean, you've got to know what cartoons are." Harry nodded but Regulus raised an eyebrow. "All right, erm, well, they've got TVs somewhere around here. I'll show you when we get there. Look, let's start with something simple. This is a football. Well, obviously, Harry would know that; we have gym together. Well, we had gym together. And this, over here, this is a koosh ball. See, Harry, you can throw this one without hurting somebody. I figured you'd like that. And this is a Magic 8 Ball. You can't throw it. You ask it a question, then shake it, and it tells you the answer. Only, it's not really magical, not like you two. And this ball—well—I don't really know what it's called, but it fills up with lightning whenever you touch the sides. See?"

Harry gripped the plasma ball, his eyes widening as his palms lit up.

Dudley giggled but his face fell. "Well, wizards can probably make lightning come out of their wands, right? I guess it isn't that special."

Gazing down at the ball, Regulus whispered, "It's brilliant!"

"So brilliant," Harry agreed.

Dudley beamed before dragging them to another section.

"So, this is Play Dough. Harry, I really think you'll like this. You can roll the dough to make anything you want. It's a bit boring but—yeah—I told you that you'd like it. And if you like building stuff, there's a whole Lego display over here."

"I know what those are," Harry said. "I stepped on enough of them in your room."

Dudley winced before saying, "Yeah, I always threw them. I could never get the hang of the shapes. Not like this."

Harry's jaw dropped as he took in the massive structures that the employees had made.

Dudley grinned down at him before quickly whisking him along.

"And over here, these are action figures. You've got TMNT, same on the poster earlier, He-Man, Batman, Spider-Man, Star Wars—oh! Check this out!"

Regulus stood back, laughing until he could barely breathe, as Harry and Dudley raced through the floor, each wielding a strange plastic saber that was filled with light.

"The bigger dolls are over here. You've got Barbies, if you're into that. Oh. Yeah, sure. That's a horrible dress, though. They've got accessory kits for her. You could have her be a doctor or an astronaut. Look, they've got a witch one."

"Do all witches look like that?" Harry asked, as they put the accessory kit into the magically expanding basket.

"No witch looks like that," Regulus said with a smile. "She is pretty, though."

"Yeah, she is," Dudley agreed. "You've got more dolls over here. These are the Cabbage Patch Kids. And these are the Pound Puppies."

Regulus and Harry collected every single child and pet.

And away they went, to the next part of the store.

"You've got your teddies over here and—"

Dudley trailed off with a grin. Harry's own face was split in half by his smile. He liked this section. He really liked it. Regulus hung back and watched as Dudley passed him various stuffed animals. It was hard to believe that, just a few days ago, Harry had entered the Magical Menagerie. A few days before that, he and Dudley wouldn't have spared each other a friendly glance, let alone be arm-in-arm as they raced through a toy store.

"Oh, these are Transformers. Yeah, they're sort of like Regulus, only instead of humans transforming into cats, they're robots that transform into cars. And then you've got Hot Wheels. And up on this floor, you've got the TVs and video games. See, Regulus, that's a cartoon. And Harry needs this Sega. And this Nintendo. And this GameBoy. Yes, all of them. They're all super important. Look, I'll show you how they work."

Regulus' smile never wavered, not when Dudley fed him a miniature pizza that he had baked with a lightbulb, not when the boys got into a playful fight with bracelets that they put on my slapping each other's arms, not when the two found rollerskates, not when the rollerskates found the stairs. He couldn't remember the last time he was so happy.

And as he watched Dudley help Harry onto his first bicycle—carefully taking him down the aisle, not letting go, even though the training wheels were still on—Regulus knew today could have gone horribly. Dudley could have reverted back into the child that Vernon had encouraged him to be, the child who had two bedrooms and was still taught to throw a tantrum whenever anyone had something of their own. Harry could have been traumatized even further, leaving the store without buying a single toy.

Instead, thanks to Dudley, the trio left, beaming from ear to ear. Regulus had spent a small chunk of his fortune but it was entirely worth it. They had truly bought the lot, with Kreacher inconspicuously Apparating everything back to the house. Everything but Teddy Ruxpin. Regulus might have been a Death Eater but even he had his limits on how many creepy things he wanted to see in his life.

It was only when Harry whispered, "These are the best presents ever!" that Regulus froze in his tracks.

"Harry," he slowly said, "these aren't birthday presents."

"Oh."

Seeing the boy's crestfallen look, coupled with Dudley's glare, caused Regulus to quickly say, "No, I mean that they're just toys, just for the sake of toys. You and Dudley are sharing them so they don't count as _your _birthday presents. With that said, I know something that will."

The trio Apparated back to Diagon Alley. The sun had well and truly set, though Regulus still pulled his hood and pressed down Harry's hair. The stunned boys followed Regulus over to a shop that said Quality Quidditch Supplies.

The owner of the shop was just about to lock the door when Regulus made an announcement that practically caused her to knock said door down:

"I would like to buy the Nimbus 2001. I can pay upfront."

Harry held the broom close, as if afraid that it, like so many glimpses of happiness, would slide away from his grasp.

"Regulus," he croaked, "_thank _you!"

"You're welcome," Regulus said with a smile. "Happy Belated Birthday. Oi, Dudley, when's _your _birthday?"

To his surprise, Dudley grimaced and said, "'Bout a week before Harry's."

"Oh!" Regulus cried. "Well, we can get you a birthday present as well—"

"_NO_!"

Harry and Dudley stared at one another, both surprised and amused by the other one's outburst. Regulus, who had leaned so far back that he was magically suspending his upper torso, finally came forward. His lips twitched as he said, "Right then, love the unity, that's how we win wars."

Harry didn't mean to be rude, but he ignored his new family member, in favor of staring at his old one. "You-you don't want—?"

"It bothered you, didn't it?" Dudley demanded.

"What did?" Harry innocently asked. "You getting thirty-six presents?"

Regulus looked left, looked right, then looked at nothing in particular, zoning out as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard.

Dudley waited for an answer and Harry finally gave him one: "A bit."

"I-I'm sorry."

Things were getting more awkward by the second. Harry released a hand from his broom, running a hand through his hair, in a manner so similar to another messy-haired Potter that Regulus was snapped out of one stupor and thrown into another.

"Well," Harry said, "it's not like you _asked _them to give you thirty-six presents."

"No," Dudley agreed. "I asked them to give me thirty-seven."

"Bit rude of them to short-change you."

"Yeah, well, I obviously thought so."

"I just—" Regulus spoke up. "I have so many questions right now."

"Dudley got thirty-six presents for his birthday," Harry explained.

"Well, technically, I got two new ones when we were out, so I got thirty-eight."

Regulus shook his head and muttered, "So many questions."

These questions included but were not limited to: Why had he spared Vernon's life? Why had he agreed to save Petunia? Why hadn't he just done them in right then and there? Why had he forgotten that he was a Death Eater who knew how to seamlessly murder? How long could he stand and reminisce about what could have been before Harry and Dudley got weirded out?

"Well," Harry said, a bit too loudly. "Anyway, it doesn't really matter, because I got the best present of them all."

"Yeah, that broom is definitely—a brilliant broom," Dudley said, doing his best to compliment his cousin, despite not knowing much about flying cleaning utensils, let alone the rankings of them.

"No, not the broom," Harry said, gesturing to their new guardian. "I meant 'Crookshanks'."

"Oh, yeah!" Dudley grinned. "Regulus, you're a wicked present."

"Glad to hear it," Regulus said. "Sorry, _thirty-eight_?"

The cousins exchanged glances and Harry asked, "Well, hang on, do you reckon they counted the zoo as a separate present?"

"Oh." Dudley glanced up at a flat-mouthed Regulus. "Thirty-nine." It was his turn to hesitate as he said, "Well, we also got ice-cream, so fort—?"

"Ice cream sounds terrific!" Regulus said, steering them over to Florean Fortescue's. "Let's stuff our mouths and not talk about the past for awhile!"

Florean was also about to close but seeing the eager eyes of the children, he was more than happy to dish out some ice-cream. Regulus Apparated them to Trafalgar Square, where they could eat without the fear of being spotted. Realizing that they were still hungry, Regulus took them to a Muggle pub, where he used some of the Dursleys' former pounds to pay for their fish and chips.

"You guys have the strangest money," Regulus mused, turning one of the pounds over in his hand.

Dudley stared at him before saying, "You're a cat."

"That's fair."

Just when it seemed like their endless day was finally ending, Dudley dragged them to Wilko. They too were about to close, until Dudley dropped multiple pounds onto the counter while Harry shyly asked them for a telephone. Dudley added that they needed a book.

It was this book that Dudley held as he looked around their beautiful, new kitchen.

"Right, I have a weird plan," Dudley said, handing the book to Kreacher. "Kreacher, I need you to read this entire book about electricity, electronics, and plugs. Then, I need you to use your fancy magic to set this entire manor up to accommodate electricity. Not sure that's possible. Not sure what's impossible, anymore. After that, I need you to somehow figure out how to connect this phone to one of those wires."

"Please," Harry pointedly said.

"Yeah, please."

Seconds. It took _seconds _for Kreacher to essentially become an electrician. He opened the book, rapidly flipped through the pages at a speed that would cover mortal hands with thousands of papercuts, snapped the book shut, and snapped his uncut fingers. The three looked around as the walls began to clang, sockets pushing out at various points. A few seconds later, Kreacher had successfully mounted the working telephone on the wall.

"Okay, that's cool," Dudley said.

"That's _wicked_!" Harry shrieked. "Well done, Kreacher!"

"Yes, well done," Regulus said. "Erm, now what?"

Pulling the receiver from the wall, Dudley handed it to a befuddled Regulus, whose first instinct was to brandish it like a wand. Dudley was too busy laughing, so Harry took it upon himself to drag a chair over. Doing so scuffed the floor but another snap from Kreacher fixed the marks. The boys untangled Regulus from the cord he was rapidly getting caught in, while a laughing Dudley said, "It's not that hard. Just hold this up to your face and I'll punch in the number and—"

The three waited, Harry and Dudley having to properly hold the receiver up to the side of Regulus' face, when he was ready to smash it into his nose. His ears twitched as he listened to a buzz. More buzzing. Then:

"Hello?"

Regulus sank down into the chair and—

The boys couldn't help it. They burst out laughing. Even Harry couldn't hold himself back, grabbing his cousin, as they fell into a hysterical heap on the floor.

In their defense, it's not everyday one realizes that their new guardian's pupils can dilate whenever he receives a pleasant surprise.

Ϟϟϟ

Regulus' eyes were stinging. He had finally sent the boys off to bed and, while not intending to sleep himself, he had ducked into his master bedroom. It was there that he had changed out of the robes into a much more comfortable white dress shirt with puffy sleeves and tailored trousers. Casual wear. Unfortunately, in changing, he came face-to-face with his Dark Mark. He had done so this morning, but that had been different.

Things had been different.

Now—

He jumped at a knock on the door.

"Hey, Regulus?" Dudley nervously called.

"Yeah, bud?"

"The bath in my bathroom has no knobs on it."

"Yeah, you just tell it what kind of water you want. It'll listen."

"Erm...okay?"

He heard Dudley walk away. The boy was clearly confused by something that Regulus had known all of his life. Then again, Regulus had just learned what a telephone was. As he had told Dudley, he knew _some _things. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter had been revolutionaries, who nearly got the Potter surname marked as 'blood traitors' with their promotion of Muggle-acceptance. Lily had obviously been Muggle-Born and had introduced him to many other wonders of the world, though she had obviously not been able to cover everything.

They were, after all, two different worlds.

And Regulus, who had grown up to hate one of those worlds, had just agreed to raise a child from it. Harry was difficult enough with the whole 'accidentally bringing down Lord Voldemort' thing he had going for him. But Dudley? A Muggle child living in a Black household was unheard of before today. Regulus had been so caught up in the motions that he hadn't really thought about it. Now, he was thinking, and he didn't like his thoughts.

He eventually made his way through the house, the house that housed a Muggle. With nowhere left to wander, Regulus could only go up.

"_I'll make sure that Dudley's safe, that he's healthy, that he's cared for."_

"_It will be safe. I won't let anything happen to you."_

"_I also promised to keep you safe."_

"_I think I would be safe with Regulus."_

"_I will honor your safety and I will honor your being."_

"_I promise that your Dudley will be safe."_

"_They're safe."_

"_They're safe."_

"_They're safe."_

Regulus sat on the uppermost tower of The Bachelor Pad, one foot balancing on the edge, his knee upward, the other leg hanging down, swinging away. He rested his arm upon the knee as he thought of every promise he had made over the past forty-eight hours. He had promised, he had magically vowed, to keep Dudley safe. Every part of him was committed to keeping Dudley safe.

Well, nearly every part.

Regulus took a deep breath before gripping the sleeve of his right arm, slowly pulling it back, as if it was a sticky bandage. At last, he saw the wound underneath, the black mark that stood out on the pale skin. He had heard that most tattoos would fade with age but he knew that this never would. The snake-chomping skull would always be as vibrant as it had been when he was sixteen. It looked especially conspicuous beneath the light of the moon and the light of a certain star. Out of all of the stars in the universe, Regulus always looked to one.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" He let out a nervous chuckle. "I took in Voldemort's enemy and a Muggle. A Muggle. I reckon Dudley's the first Muggle child who has ever been associated with the Noble and Ancient House. He's got to be. Everyone else would have been burned." He swallowed as he realized: "I would have been burned. Mother would burn me in an instant if she knew what I was doing. After committing myself to the Death Eaters, to turn around and want to take in a Muggle child—she'd think I'd gone mad. Maybe I have."

His doubts didn't stay for long. Curling his fingers into a fist, Regulus proceeded to argue with the star: "But I've changed, haven't I? I changed when I was eighteen. I repented for my sins. I nearly drowned, that day. I would have. I would have drowned, had it not been for you and James. I would have drowned if that's what it took to defeat him. I wanted to defeat him. I still want to defeat him. I'm not on this side anymore. I'm not. The scared boy who put out his arm because he was trying to grab onto anything that could save him—that's not me. Not anymore. The scared boy that's sitting down in the bedroom? That's Dudley. Dudley Evans. Dudley, who gave up his own abusive household and came with me, because he trusted me. He trusts me! How can I let him down? How can I reject him? Just because he's a Muggle."

Regulus leapt to his feet, doing a small spin. He proceeded to absentmindedly hop from turret to tower, even spinning on the oversized weather vane for the dramatics of it all.

"He's a Muggle but he's still a child. He deserves to be protected. I want to protect him. I want to keep him safe. I know that I can keep him safe. Right? I can. He'll be safe. Won't he? I just want him to be safe."

He slipped and landed on the flat part of the roof. On his feet. Naturally. Tears blurred the stars, until he didn't know which way to look.

"I'm scared, Sirius. All my life, I was taught that children like Dudley were monsters, that they didn't deserve our help, that they didn't deserve to live. I look at that boy and all I see is someone who needs a home, who needs a life, unfettered by abuse and turmoil. He and Harry both deserve that. I want to give them that. But what happens if—if I change my mind, one day? What happens if I regress? If I turn back into the monster I was when I was sixteen? What happens if, one day, I don't see him as a child that needs love, but as a thing that needs ridding of? What if I fail him? What if I—"

He sank down to his knees and whispered, "What if I hurt him?"

The tears began to roll down his cheeks. He automatically wiped them, until the droplets stuck to his right arm. Letting out a small gasp, Regulus brought his left hand down, shoving at his skin.

"I don't want to be Marked, anymore. I don't ever want to be reminded of the things I believed in. Because if I'm reminded of them, then I might start thinking about them, and I don't want that. I want to live a life where I can care for Dudley without worrying about any past objections. I don't want my sixteen-year-old self to dictate who I can and cannot call my family!"

Letting out another chuckle, this one a lot darker than the last, he turned towards the star. "Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Looking back to his arm, he found that his thoughts were growing as dark as his mark. His left fingers wrapped around his right arm like a snake wraps around its prey. "I wish I could just get rid of it. Harry and Dudley won't notice if I only have three-quarters of my arms tomorrow, right? I can just get rid of the mark. But I can't, can I? It will always be there. I'll always be Marked, in one way or another. I just wish—god, I wish I could get rid of it."

And then another thought emerged, one that caused him to loosen his grip.

"But then I wouldn't be able to hold Dudley." He stared down at the very arm that had been wrapped around the boy's shoulders. "All day, I held Harry with my left arm and I held Dudley with—with this one. If I get rid of it then how am I going to hold him?" Eyes fixed on the star, again, as he said, "I suppose that's one thing it's good for. Holding Dudley. It's got a new purpose, eh? It's still Marked but that doesn't mean it only exists for the Mark. I can hold Dudley. I can protect Dudley. I can raise Dudley."

He climbed back up onto the tallest turret, once again positioning himself as he used to, all those years ago when he'd sit on the edge of the Astronomy Tower. One leg up. One leg swinging. His arm resting across his knee. This time, he tugged at the sleeve.

"There's no need to look at something I did years ago, is there? I wish it wasn't there, but I can't change the past, and if I try to remove it, now, I'll just end up hurting the people in the present. Because Dudley would be hurt if I couldn't hold him like I held Harry. Of course he would. He'd probably throw a tantrum and believe you me, brother o' mine, you do not want to bear witness to that. So, no, I can't get rid of it. No matter how much I may want to. I have to live with it because it's part of who I am. And what I now am is a guardian. A guardian to your godson and a Muggle."

In that moment, he felt weightless enough to soar up to the stars. He didn't, but it was a nice feeling. Sitting there on the roof, knowing that the weight of the world wasn't going to push him through. It was nice.

"I'll keep him safe," Regulus promised. "I'll keep both of them safe. I'll raise them and protect them as if they were my own. And if, one day, I do regress, if I—if I do end up—if—" The weight was back, but he flung it off with a sharp: "No! I can't think about every possible thing that could happen. Whatever does happen, come what may, we'll deal with it then. That's a problem for Future Regulus. I'm not the same person I was, when I was a child, and I won't be the same person I am, when these problems occur. So, why do I think I can solve them, now? We'll solve them as they come up, as we change, as we grow. I'll be who I need to be in that moment. Whatever the boys need, I'll give it to them. Should they need someone that's not me, I'll give that to them, but until that day, I'll be there. You may have been the better brother, Sirius, but you still didn't know shite about keeping a family together, did you? Allow me to show you how it's done."

He stood up, clutching the weather vane, his promise floating up towards the stars: "No matter what I've done, no matter what they've done, we'll be a family. I won't abandon them. Hopefully, they won't abandon me. Either way, no matter what, I'll keep them safe."

After a moment, he brightly said, "All right, good talk!"

Regulus suddenly froze as he spotted two silhouettes running from the front door to the town. He blinked before saying, "Okay, I guess this is A Thing."

**The Thing (AKA: Several Minutes Earlier):**

Dudley had nearly fallen asleep when he heard a soft knock on his door. Stumbling out of bed, he pulled the door open, only to realize just how tiny his cousin was.

"Dudley," Harry softly said. "I'm running away."

Dudley was _on _it. He grabbed his new blanket and shoved several toys into it, tying it all up into a bundle. He asked Harry if he needed anything, but it became clear that his cousin just needed to get away. So, Dudley abandoned the bundle, and grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him downstairs and out of the house.

Though it was autumn, the air was considerably chilly. It bit at their faces, smelling of salt and grass, as they made their way up the rest of the bank. From there, they climbed over a fence and quickly raced across a set of railroad tracks. It was another mad dash across the road, and then they were in Blackpool. A few people were still out, coming back from the pubs. A group ranted at one another about losing a quiz, their frustrated tones causing Harry to tense.

To his right, Dudley firmly said, "I've got you."

Harry nodded, standing a little closer to him, as they walked on.

They didn't really know where they were going, stumbling past rows of terraced houses and brick restaurants. Dudley's mouth watered at the menus propped in the windows, but he kept going, for Harry's sake. Their legs were starting to ache when they spotted an iron gate with metal letters signifying that they had reached a rock garden. The two exchanged glances before entering, twisting trees casting shadows across the dirt pathways. Pressed together, with Dudley still on the right, they made their way through the greenery, not sure whether to be charmed or scared. They were both, along with grubby from the walk, and exhausted from the hour. The two eventually collapsed onto a fallen tree.

"Okay," Dudley finally said. "We've run away."

"Yeah, we have," Harry agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment before Dudley added, "Now what?"

"I don't know." Tears filled Harry's eyes and he used the top of his shirt to wipe them away. Dudley clasped his shoulder, which was painful, but appreciated. "I don't—I mean—I don't know—"

"Yeah," Dudley said in agreement. "It's weird, right?"

"It's not just weird, it's _freaky_." Harry shuddered. "I'm used to being a freak but _this_—this is just—Dudley, we got invited to live in a manor."

"By your goduncle."

"By my goduncle."

"Who's a cat."

"Regulus is a _cat_!"

"And in love with our new psycho-psychi-erm-therapist."

"And in love with—" Harry burst out laughing. "Do you reckon he is?"

"Did you see his eyes earlier?"

The two giggled.

"He didn't even know what a telephone was," Harry said in awe.

"Well," Dudley said fairly, "I didn't know what a broomstick was."

"Neither did I."

"Even though you're a natural at riding one."

Harry smiled at the memory. "And now I've got my own. I've got a birthday present!"

"Technically, isn't Regulus also your birthday present?"

"Yeah—" Harry blinked as he fully realized what Dudley was saying. "Yeah, Regulus is my pet _and_ my guardian. _Our _guardian."

"Only if we want him to be."

"Do we want him to be?'

Dudley let go of Harry long enough to throw his hands into the air. "Don't look at me. The Dursleys have controlled your life enough."

"But you're not a Dursley, anymore."

Dudley focused on his kicking legs for awhile before admitting, "That's even weirder than the whole magic thing. Dad's—Dad's in jail and Mummy's—"

Heavy tears rolled down his cheeks and Harry patted his arm.

"And now, we're here," Harry said.

As they looked around the park, they realized that the shadows were a lot less scary than they had initially seemed.

"It's nice," Dudley said. "Being here."

Harry nodded.

He didn't want to say what he was truly thinking, having been taught to _not _do that his whole life. What he was truly thinking was that, for the first time in his remembered life, he could _have _a life worth remembering. He could be protected, perhaps liked, maybe even loved, some day. What a wonderful thought. What an odd thought, from an odd boy. A freak. A freak whose guardian was a freak, who came from a family of freaks, in a world of freaks, who was now staying at a freaky house. Part of Harry was terrified but another part was so euphoric that he couldn't even place the sensation.

Still, Dudley seemed to understand.

"Regulus helped Mummy," said the boy, putting in his two cents. "He helped you. He helped me. He, you know, helps. I think it could be okay."

"And if it's not?"

"Then we'll run away, proper."

Harry nodded and croaked, "I don't—I don't think _this_ is the proper way to run away."

"No," Dudley agreed. "We can do some research on how to do it."

The smaller boy laughed. "Yeah, all right." He dug his heel into the splintery trunk before admitting, "I don't want to run away. It's just—being there, being in a bedroom, in a bed, with toys, and a guardian—it's—"

"It's freaky," Dudley agreed.

Harry flushed but his non-magical cousin had a trick up his sleeve: "Well, I suppose, we're all freaks, aren't we? You're a wizard, I'm Dudley, and Regulus is a cat." Harry giggled. "And a terrorist, apparently." Harry laughed. "And in love with our therapist." Harry cracked up.

Crookshanks chose that moment to melt from the shadows, giving them both an amused meow. The boys grinned and beckoned him over, each taking an ear to pet.

It was Harry who eventually said, "We're petting our guardian."

"We're petting our guardian," Dudley agreed.

"Am I your guardian?" Regulus asked, transforming back.

The cousins glanced at each other.

Dudley deflected with a question of his own: "How long have you been here?"

"For as long as you have."

"You followed us?" Harry guessed.

"Of course I followed you; I wanted to make sure you two were safe."

It was an insulted Dudley who cried, "I made sure he was safe!"

"Dudley, you pulled him across a set of railroad tracks."

"I _safely _pulled him across a set of railroad tracks!"

Harry quickly asked, "Are we in trouble?"

"No, of course not," Regulus said. "I get it. I had actually gone up onto the roof to reflect on things. This _is _weird, eh?"

"You're a cat," Harry pointed out.

Dudley, who was now grinning, said, "And in love with our therapist."

Harry burst out laughing as a smiling Regulus rolled his eyes.

It was the tinier child, who certainly felt tiny, who said, "And our guardian."

"Yeah," Dudley said. "And our guardian."

Regulus' smile stretched. "Well, then, let's head home." They had just hopped from the tree when he added, "No, wait. Actually, I've got an idea. Come with me."

Dudley groaned. "Another location? This has been the longest day of my life!"

"The longest couple of days," Harry agreed.

Still, they let Regulus lead them through the small park, until they had reached a small pond. It was beautiful, with the stars shining in the water. At least, they shone in the parts that weren't covered by—

"Lilypads?" Harry whispered.

"Yeah," Regulus fondly said, his eyes as wet as the pond. He stood far back from the edge, holding onto the boys, just in case. "The last time I visited Blackpool was when I was sixteen. Sirius came along with me. The problem was that he brought James."

"Why was that a problem?" Harry wondered.

"Well, I wasn't as cool as James."

The boys laughed.

"What Sirius didn't realize was that James wanted to bring Lily," Regulus continued. "So, it was a bit of a battle. I wanted Sirius' attention, Sirius wanted James' attention, James wanted Lily's attention, and Uncle Alphard wanted us all to pay attention to him. Anyway, we were all fighting for each other's affections, but Lily? Your mother? She was so focused on the beauty of the world that trivial things like us arguing didn't even affect her. She took us all around Blackpool, including to this very park. She transformed some of the water into Lilypads, to remind us all that things could change, that they could become something amazing."

Harry's eyes sparkled as he crouched down next to the pond. Regulus' heart skipped several beats, though his fear turned into excitement as more lilypads emerged from the depths of the water.

"No way!" Dudley cried.

Harry gingerly picked up one of the plants before laughing, from the sheer excitement, from the sheer beauty, from the sheer prospect that one could change.

He was still laughing as Regulus guided them back through the streets, showing the two how to properly cross the road and railroad tracks. It was music to Regulus' ears, as he found himself thinking back to another part of his conversation with the goblins:

"_Not only do we goblins know what scars are, Heir Black—"_

"_Again, I-I apologize."_

"—_we know exactly how Heir Apparent Potter got his."_

"_...You do?"_

"_Yes, we do. Well done."_

"_I—yes, I suppose it worked out rather well, didn't it?"_

"_You did well by him, indeed. Hopefully, you can do well by him, again."_

Regulus promised to do well by _both _of them. He smiled down at the two boys and nearly fell over them when they froze. Harry, who had been caught up in the bliss that came with holding the lilypad, might have potentially sort-of affected a good chunk of the Irish Sea. Waves of lilypads were crashing up onto the beach, before dissolving into sea foam. The trio raced past the house and down a path towards the water.

"I-I'm sorry," Harry said. "I can change it back."

"No, don't," Regulus said. "Let it stay like this."

Dudley nodded. "Some change is good."

Neither of them could disagree with that. Despite the fact that they were exhausted from the longest day of their lives, the three sank down, taking the time to watch the transfiguration, to relish in the transformation.

Regulus raised his hand and created a small campfire. With a fond smile, he said, "Harry's grandparents used to build these for us. Fleamont would play his guitar. Blimey, I wonder what ever happened to that thing?"

At that moment, Kreacher popped in and said, "If Young Master Harry gives me permission, Kreacher can access the Potter estates!"

"Erm, you have my permission!"

Kreacher popped away but was back in seconds, handing a guitar to a weepy Regulus. "This is it. This is—blimey—this—"

"Play it!" Dudley demanded.

"Can you play it, please?" Harry amended.

It was with shaking hands and a shaky voice that Regulus played:

_There are places I'll remember_

_All my life, though some have changed_

_Some forever, not for better_

_Some have gone, and some remain_

_All these places had their moments_

_With lovers and friends, I still can recall_

_Some are dead, and some are living_

_In my life, I've loved them all_

He paused before confessing: "I honestly don't remember the rest. Oh well. I'm sure, I'll think of the words, eventually." At the sound of the twelve tolling bells, he extinguished the fire and said, "But for now, it's time for bed. Can you do me a favor and _stay in your beds_?"

The two laughed as they made their way back up to the house. Harry and Dudley raced each other inside. Regulus was about to follow when he stopped, smiling up at the sign: The Bachelor Pad. With a snap of his fingers, the name and their lives changed:

_**The Lilypad.**_


End file.
